The Rebirth of Itex
by Captain Atticus
Summary: What happens when the Flock fights Itex's biggest conspiracy yet? Fax and character deaths.
1. The First Mission

**A/N: This basically picks up a few days after MR3, but following Omega and my own added character, Phoenix as well as the flock. I do not own Maximum Ride.**

It was too soon. She'd only left Itex two days ago. How could they have tracked her down so fast?

The former Director snapped orders to her detail of bodyguards, shuddering when they got too close. Immediately, the quartet of Eraser-like robots shot into the air.

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He swore angrily. There wasn't _time_ to take down these idiots. He had to complete the _mission_. The mutant pulled up with several painful downward strokes, barely flying over the four robots. He dove and then strained to pull himself back around to face his opponents. For a moment, he watched in confusion as the robots came toward him, seemingly upside down.

He tilted his head and righted himself, instantly realizing why flying upward had seemed easier than usual. Blinking, the mutant also figured out that he'd fallen several hundred feet. Before he could plan his next move, the first machine was on top of him, droning on about how the mutant would not destroy the Director.

Snarling, the winged menace drove a powerful kick into the robot's artificial stomach. The robot retaliated violently, sending a flurry of bullets in his direction. Several of the projectiles grazed his skin, and the mutant wondered with morbid amusement as to what the commuters on the German street below would think when red droplets splashed on their windshields.

He twisted the robot's arm, biting back four-letter words when he realized that the gun was attached. Struggling to keep his clumsy wings beating, the mutant smashed the drone's head with his feet until the red light flickered out of its eyes. The mutant pulled the gun's trigger three times as the robot's deadweight dragged him down.

All three bullets hit their targets, taking care of the last of the robots. Perfect aim; so much more useful than his blasted wings.

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The Director broke into a run, looking over her shoulder to see the defeated robots fall to the ground. She eyes the distant black speck that had brought them down, thinking at first that it was one of Batchelder's failed avian hybrids.

When she caught sight of another mutant, this one running toward her at superhuman speeds, she knew who both of them were. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she dashed through the doors of an uninteresting skyscraper, heading immediately for the elevator. The Director pressed the "up" button in panic, mentally urging the elevator to arrive before the mutants.

The chrome doors opened with a metallic _ding_, and she rushed through as the mutant on foot reached the building. She looked into his silvery eyes in fear, not sure if the doors would close in time. They did, and the Director chose a floor at random before leaning against the back wall of the elevator and breathing heavily.

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Omega stared at the chrome doors for a moment, not knowing what to do next. He backed up to see the numbers above the elevator light up one by one.

"Omega!" a voice shouted, and he whirled around before realizing that it had come from his earpiece.

"Yes?" he said cautiously, hoping the person on the other side wouldn't talk so loud again.

"Where'd the target go?"

"Geez, lay off the shouting and the secret agent talk, Phoenix."

"Fine," Phoenix returned, his voice noticeably subdued. "Just tell me where the Director went."

"I think she's in the elevator."

"What elevator?"

"The one I'm standing in front of."

"Would it kill you to be more specific?"

Omega frowned. "No. How could it?"

"Never mind. Just tell me where you are."

"Isn't that what you do? Find people and shoot things?"

"It's harder when you're trying to fly with these stupid wings," Phoenix sulked. "Now hurry up and get to the Director."

"How? She's in the elevator."

"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of genius?"

Omega didn't reply, running to the staircase and taking the steps three at a time. He reached the twentieth floor and glanced at the numbers above the elevator to see that it had stopped on the twenty-second. The last two flights passed by quickly, and when he opened the door into the floor's main corridor he wasn't remotely tired.

The bleak emptiness of the hallway didn't feel at all unfamiliar, and the paper taped to the wall reading "Renovations in Progress" meant nothing to him. Omega prowled down the hallway, listening for any sign of life: breathing, footsteps, something being knocked over. Finally he heard the _click_ of a door being shut, and he sprinted around a corner. He located the door with ease and kicked it off its sturdy hinges upon finding it locked.

The room beyond the door was almost completely devoid of furniture, with only a desk draped with a paint cloth resting in the center of the room. A half-empty can of white paint rest beside the now-doorless entrance along with a rolling paint brush. The navy blue walls were streaked with an incomplete white priming coat. The wall opposite the doorway was not actually at a wall at all, but instead a huge window overlooking the city.

Standing beside the desk and watching him warily was the out-of-breath Director. "What are you going to do now, Omega?"

"We have been sent to retire you," Omega answered emotionlessly, not moving.

"But you're not going to do that, are you? That's not your real job. It's just a test, Omega," the Director said, noting the confusion that washed across the mutant's face. "It's Phoenix that you're really supposed to kill."

Omega hesitated. "Kill… Phoenix?" He _knew_ the Director. The Director had always told him what to do. Maybe his real job _was_ to retire Phoenix.

He saw movement beyond the Director and looked up to see Phoenix soaring toward the window, wearing that black helmet designed to help him breathe better at higher altitudes. Phoenix's wings tucked in, and the mutant's momentum carried him straight through the window.

Both Omega and the Director ducked as shattered glass filled the office. Omega rose first, small cuts and scratches covering the arm he had used to shield his face.

"Phoenix," he said levelly, "I must retire you."

"What the heck?" Phoenix muttered, his black helmet, wings, and outfit standing out against the white-streaked walls. He dodged Omega's first punch, and blocked the second. "What about the _mission_?"

"This is the mission."

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"No, it's not!" Phoenix shouted, trying not to sound helpless. Omega kicked him squarely in the chest, and Phoenix was slammed into the still-wet walls. He bit back a yelp as pain rolled through the wings the whitecoats had grafted on several years ago.

His knees buckled to both his and Omega's surprise. Omega tried to pull back his next punch, but his fist crashed through the wall anyway. Phoenix seized the sudden opportunity and swept a foot under Omega's, knocking down the taller boy.

Before his opponent could attack again, Phoenix dove through the shattered window, dragging the Director with him. The mutant unfurled his wings hastily, not particularly eager to fall the twenty-two stories. He released the Director, letting her fall with the cold satisfaction of knowing the mission was complete.


	2. Old Friends

**A/N: Mmm... Sorry that it's short and doesn't get much done. I suppose I was just in too cheerful of a mood. (If it gets confusing, MilesPhoenix and ChariotMara.)**

"Wha… 'appened?" Phoenix groaned, lifting his head off the ground only to let it fall back down. He blinked rapidly, and then squeezed his eyes shut to block out the throbbing pain.

"You fell, Miles."

"What? Mara?" Phoenix guessed, noting the use of his real name.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What do you mean, 'fell?' I don't fall." He opened an eye, peering about in search of the leopard hybrid.

Mara grinned at him, her feline fangs giving the expression a sinister feel. "Omega jumped out a window to tackle you. Beat you unconscious on the way down, and a couple of those robot things had to catch you and bring you back here."

"I am going to kill that son of a-"

"Easy, Miles. Can't mess with Itex's poster boy."

"I'll get them next."

"Right. C'mon, 'Phoenix,'" she said, clearly mocking the name, "Get real. You'd never stop working for Itex. You can't live without another mission."

"Normal people don't get missions?" Phoenix asked, his face suggesting that he had never heard of such a thing. "What do they _do_? What were they created for?"

Mara laughed. "You're as screwed up as Omega."

"Where is he, by the way? I need to kill him."

The leopard hybrid shrugged, getting up to try the door of the small, windowless room. "Locked, as usual, but he's probably just wandering around with that expression he has when he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing."

Phoenix chuckled. "You mean the one where his eyes are wide open, and he can't decide what to look at first?"

"Yeah. And where he'll walk up to anyone passing by, stare at them for a sec, and then follow them around for the rest of the day."

"Don't even joke about that," Phoenix said, faking a shudder. "That guy can be seriously creepy, with those weird eyes, and how he makes even less noise than you."

"No one makes less noise than me," Mara replied, staring at the door intently.

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?" He waited, and then glanced over at her to find out why she wasn't replying. "What are you doing, murdering that door with your eyes? Did they give you laser vision when I wasn't looking?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I thought I heard something."

"Figures I'd get stuck with the most easily distracted mutant for a roommate."

"Watch it, kid. I can kick your winged butt anytime I want."

"Sure, 'Chariot,'" Phoenix responded. "Sure."

"I hate that name," Mara said. "It doesn't have anything to do with me."

"At least people don't think you're a city or somehow related to Harry Potter. I've never even _met_ Harry Potter."

His hybrid companion groaned. "You really need to get out more."

"What's that supposed to mean? It's not _my_ fault I'm a mutant freak."

The two went on that for a while, teasing each other and making fun of Omega, free at last to use their real names and personalities. Phoenix finally learned who Harry Potter was; although he was disappointed to find out he was fictional.

Eventually, the steel door creaked open and they rose to their feet to get whatever new test the whitecoats had planned over with. Phoenix was yawning and shaking out his wings when the door's opener came into view.

He shouted something unintelligible as Omega attacked, attempting to back away from his determined opponent. Mara grabbed the back of the Omega's shirt and flung the younger creation across the room, leaving ample time for her and Phoenix to escape the room. They slammed the door behind them and continued their conversation as if nothing had happened, ignoring Omega's declarations that he was going to "retire Phoenix."


	3. Negotiations

**A/N: Thanks to my three reviewers. **

**Oh, yeah, here's an interesting story: today I was supposed to get my flu and meningitis shots, and my siblings needed shots too, so we all went at the same time. Somehow, we distracted the nurse so much that she gave me two flu shots, and no meningitis. It was pretty funny, especially to my mom for some reason. It's a good thing I'm not scared of needles, 'cause now I have to go back soon for the last shot.**

"Two hundred million American."

Maxwell stared at the Chinese representative, already feeling his newfound post as Director slipping away. "Two? You only paid one and a half!

"For a pathetic group of defective products, and our firm has had to pay numerous travel expenses," the representative said icily. "My employer will not tolerate this foolishness any longer."

"How about, say, one hundred million and a few Chameleons?" Maxwell pleaded. "We never offered up a money back guarantee."

"We've had enough experience with your color-changing experiments, thank you."

"Are there _any_ I can interest you in?"

The Chinese stood silently for a moment, calculating the odds of this course of action driving his employer to anger. "Gather what you have," he ordered, and then walked off, pulling out a cellular telephone and spewing rapid Mandarin into its small speaker.

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"What's up, Bostian?" Phoenix asked delightedly, instantly recognizing a chance to tease one of his favorite targets.

"Supposed to gather the mutants," the whitecoat mumbled, casting a nervous glance over at a large, furry creature.

Phoenix followed his gaze and smirked mischievously. "Hey, Whiskers," he called, gesturing for the hulking hybrid to join him. "Our whitecoat friend here wants to talk to you."

The mutant turned, his nose twitching uncontrollably. "Don't like talk."

"Really, Phoenix, I don't need to-"

"'Course you do. Why else would you be staring at him like that?"

"Don't like staring," Whiskers frowned, his eyes suddenly panicky.

"I w-wasn't staring," the whitecoat assured him nervously. The mutant relaxed visibly and wandered off.

Trying his best to scowl angrily, the whitecoat pointed to his left and said, "Throne room. Now."

"We have a throne room?" Phoenix questioned, intrigued.

"For God's sake, Phoenix, this is a castle! Just go to the big room with all the chairs in it!"

"Fine. But you should probably know that ol' Whiskers is a rabbit hybrid."

"I swear, Miles-"

"Ooh, getting threatening now, are you? My actual name?"

"At least you know it."

"True. Thanks for that, pal. Now, I'd _love_ to carry on this conversation, but I have to go to the throne room. Omega's coronation or something like that."

"Just stuff it and leave," Bostian said tiredly, putting his head in his hands. "Who let you out, anyway?"

Phoenix was already gone.

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Mara navigated her way through the mass of mutants. The considerable thinning of the last few months still wasn't nearly enough to empty the room. She found Phoenix slouching in his collapsible chair, muttering in disgust about how throne rooms should have thrones.

"Any idea of what this is about?" Mara asked, slinking into the chair next to his. She flashed a fang-filled smile to the grumpy-looking mutant that had originally claimed the spot. The Chameleon backed off, promptly turning a sour shade of blue.

"No," Phoenix said curtly.

"What, is Mr. Talkative upset that he got beat up by Omega?"

"He straightened up. "Is he here? I need-"

"You need to kill him, right. Get over it. The guy has no clue what he's doing."

As if on cue, Omega entered the throne room. Those that didn't know him personally, and even some that did, parted to let him pass, only too aware that he was supposedly "perfect."

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Omega wanted to walk over to the stone wall and smash his head into it repeatedly. How could he have let it happened again? He was like a computer constantly having its files updated or erased, and he couldn't do anything about it. One simple button could make him attack anything or anyone.

Sometimes it was better that way. It was so much easier not to feel, not to care who you hurt. What did it matter to him if innocent people were killed for getting in Itex's way? He didn't feel the guilt for long. The whitecoats just wiped it away, priming him for his next job.

Then there were the times like the day before. Former Director Janssen pressed one button, probably on a controller held behind her back, and he obeyed her every whim. He would've killed Phoenix with that all-too-familiar cold cruelty.

_There_ was another problem; Phoenix. Who knew what the winged mutant would do when he next saw Omega? Everyone knew that Phoenix's wings were painful abominations, and Omega had pretty much pounded them as hard as he could.

Yeah, the whole "perfect and emotionless" thing wasn't going too well for him.

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"Sir."

Maxwell looked away from the Chinese representative to see what his subordinate needed. He followed Bostian's frantic pointing to see a mutant determinedly shoving his way through the crowd, drawing shouts and angry exclamations from those he pushed. Apparently the pace was too slow for him because he unfurled long, dark wings and jumped into the air.

"Get someone on this now," Maxwell breathed, sending Bostian a vehement glare. "Well? What's taking so long? I SAID NOW!"

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_He's going to get himself killed,_ Mara thought grimly. She watched him snap out his wings and shot out of her chair before Phoenix was in the air. Even if by some miracle Phoenix did manage to defeat Omega, it wouldn't be without consequences. As annoying as Omega was, that didn't mean she wanted him _dead_.

Amazingly, by the time that Mara had reached the area inevitably cleared in bloodthirsty preparation for a fight, Omega was trying to get out of the living circle, shouting an apology to the murderous Phoenix. Slowly, Phoenix shook his head. He launched himself at Omega, trying a series of seemingly random blows.

Omega yelped before responding with one hard kick at Phoenix's head.

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"We'll take those three," the representative declared, pointing at the quivering Omega, the now out-cold Phoenix, and the angry Mara apparently attempting to shake Phoenix into consciousness.

"You want _Phoenix_?" Maxwell asked incredulously.

Bostian coughed loudly and nudged the new Director with his elbow.

"Is something wrong, Director Maxwell?" the representative asked, rapidly growing suspicious.

"Of course not! It's just… parting with Phoenix…. It hurts down here," Maxwell said, putting a hand to his heart.

"Your chest hurts?"

Maxwell gave a false, overly hardy laugh. "You could say that, I suppose. The thing is, Phoenix is a valuable specimen."

Bostian tried not to burst out in giggles.

"He… uh… has many different abilities. For example, he can, uh," Maxwell started, and then looked to the red-faced Bostian for help.

"Well… he has wings," Bostian began lamely, earning a loathing glare from his boss. "And he has perfect aim…. Tracks things…"

"What things?" the representative questioned.

"Other mutants, mostly. Occasionally humans, if he's been around them enough."

"Interesting." The Chinese man fell silent, considering the possible ways to use this power.

"Yes, yes, Phoenix. I suppose, just maybe, we could work something out for his sale, but selling Omega isn't an option."

"Director Maxwell is right," Bostian confirmed. "Omega has symbolic quality as well. He's the pinnacle of our achievement here at Itex."

The representative sighed impatiently. "We'll take the three, and cancel out your debt."

"Tell you what, we'll throw in a hybrid as well, a very unique one," Maxwell said, relieved at finding a way to get rid of Whiskers.

**A/N: Yeah, I did find the idea of big, lumbering rabbit hybrid amusing.**


	4. Dreading Winter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride or anything from those three books.**

Whiskers didn't get it. They were leaving the castle. Spear-a-mints weren't supposed to leave the castle. It was _bad_, and Whiskers didn't _like_ it.

"Wanna go back," he whimpered, looking toward the other mutants stuffed in the truck for comfort. Phoenix and Mara only stared at him, but Omega understood.

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The tree house had been here a long time. He ran a hand along the weathered surface, picking absently at a protruding splinter. Someday that would be him, old and scarred. The teen paused, his eyebrows knit together, as his thumb ran over an area whose texture didn't fit in with the rest of the plank. He rubbed gently: a nail head, rusted and sunken in the aged board.

He leaned back to let the light breeze wash across his face. It was chilly, but lacked any true bite. Winter would arrive soon. Iggy sighed and shifted position. He always dreaded the beginning of winter and its holidays. Nudge, Total, and Angel would start a contest counting the number of houses lit with colored lights. Gazzy would join excitedly, and the four would try to convince Fang to play along. He'd refuse adamantly, only competing on the rare occasion when Max had already given in to Angel's bambi eyes.

They'd keep the game a secret, of course, not wanting Iggy to feel left out, but he had better hearing than they thought, and the inevitable, boastful shouting of numbers was always a dead giveaway. Eventually someone would accuse Angel of invading their mind in search of the locations of more lights, and the game would end with suspicious muttering. This, if anything, was what Iggy considered the worst part. He'd have people to talk to again, but it came at the steep, guilt-inducing price of the Flock's unhappiness.

The truth was, sometimes he hated himself for feeling that sick relief at the end of the game.

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"Everyone ready to go?" Max called, surveying the re-energized faces of her Flock. A chorus of "yes's" and "hold on's" ensued, and Max tugged on her backpack, impatiently checking her inexpensive sports watch.

"Has anyone seen Iggy?" she asked suddenly, feeling slightly guilty at not having noticed his absence earlier.

"He went for a walk," Gazzy replied, too busy putting out the fire to make eye contact.

"He shouldn't have gone off by himself," Max muttered.

"Relax," a voice whispered in hear ear, and she turned her head to see Fang. "You worry too much."

"Thanks for the advice, oh Zen master."

"Anytime."

"_Max, Iggy says he's on his way back."_

_Tell him to hurry up before we decide to make him carry Total all day._

Silence.

"_Total resents that."_

…_Sorry, Ange._

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Iggy frowned. Why did he suddenly feel cold and _wet_? He reached back, noting that small droplets covered his wings like dew. Sighing, he gave up on the puzzle and dove down, fairly confident that he had found last night's campsite. Nudge's excited shouting filled his ears, and he wondered what had happened to set her off this time.

"That was awesome, Ig! It was like, you know, you came out of nowhere, only you came out headfirst so it was waaay cooler. I mean, we could kinda see your shirt 'cause it's red and all, but-"

"What?" Iggy asked, perplexed.

"The cloud! It was awesome! Like, can you _see _when you're flying through one?"

"No," Iggy answered shortly. "Not really."

It took Nudge a moment to realize what she'd said. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ig, I didn't mean-"

"S'fine," he muttered. "Let's go."

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"Stop it," Phoenix mumbled, jerking away from Mara. She made a frustrated noise and shoved him again, trying to wake him up.

"Stop," Phoenix repeated. "I don't _want_ your mashed potatoes… No, don't put them in my hair… I swear, Omega-"

"I didn't do it," Omega said automatically from the other side of the truck.

"Think Fee-nis sleeping," Whiskers commented. "Don't see poe-tae-toes in vroom."

"Vroom?" Omega asked quizzically.

"Vroom," Whiskers confirmed.

Mara rolled her eyes and kicked Phoenix in the shin. "Wake up, already."

He did, instantly forgetting his dream. "Where are we?"

"Vroom," Whiskers answered, as though it should have been obvious.

Phoenix looked to Mara for an explanation, just as she did the same with him. The leopard hybrid shrugged, and Phoenix decided to have his question answered later.

He frowned. "Why do I keep thinking I have mashed potatoes in my hair?"

"I didn't _do_ it!"


	5. Vincent

She'd killed a snail once, or had at least hurt it. She still remembered being disgusted, even scared of it. It had been making its slimy way along a tree root she and her friends had wanted to play on, but none of them wanted to go near the beast.

The snail was big, about the size of her fist. Its shell was a murky, sick brown color, reminiscent of the potential ugliness of the creature inside. The girl had picked up a rock from the grassy lawn and hurled it at the snail, repeating the process until one hits its mark and knocked the snail off its perch. The snail had disappeared amongst leafy underbrush, but she had been too disgusted with herself to go play on the roots.

Multiple scoldings had taught her to respect living creatures, but she hadn't needed adults to tell her that. The terrible feeling and sickening realization that she had the ability to kill and hurt other living things were enough. Even since then, the knowledge of the destruction and deaths she could cause had haunted her.

Now, almost a decade after the snail incident, she was waiting in the rain for a truck filled with other killers, people with similarly twisted minds that she would work with, people that would help her destroy lives and tear apart families for a cause none of them believed in. The worst part: she was good at it, and sometimes caught herself enjoying the savage thrill.

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Omega slowly rose to his feet as the truck shuddered to a halt, only to have Phoenix push him back down.

"Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop," Phoenix recited, his voice polite and pleasant.

Mara moaned. "Who took the boy to Disney World?"

"Is that the one with that whale, Shampoo?"

"Stop before you slay us with your ignorance," Mara pleaded, staggering back theatrically.

Phoenix opened his mouth to snap back a retort, but decided to let the matter rest when the back doors of the truck swung open. The cold, rainy sky was a pleasant sight after the endless monotony of the truck's wooden interior.

A teen in muddy, grass-stained jeans stood in the opening, arms crossed as she sized up the truck's four motley passengers.

"Texies?" she asked, despair plain in her voice.

"Yes," the Chinese representative responded, his tone of finality making it plain he considered the subject closed.

The teen set her jaw and stepped aside to let Omega, Phoenix, Mara, and Whiskers out. "At least they don't look as dead as the last bunch."

"It's all about confidence," Mara whispered to Omega before walking out of the truck with lithe grace. It was clear to her that he needed the advice more than Phoenix, who had promptly hopped out and looked around as if being crammed into a truck for hours was completely normal, silently challenging anyone who thought otherwise. Whiskers was a hopeless case, but his raw size was intimidating for anyone that didn't know him better.

Omega took a deep breath and followed the others out. He stayed in the background, not so much because he was avoiding talking as that he didn't have anything to say. He trudged after the others without question when the teenage girl began to lead them off to some mysterious destination. Although he could almost feel Phoenix itching with questions beside him, Omega didn't really care where they were going. Everything felt the same when you weren't supposed to feel at all.

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"You're taking us to a coffee house," Phoenix stated, clearly questioning the teen's sanity.

She didn't respond, shoving open the coffee house's door and letting it slam in Phoenix's face. Several of the employees shouted greetings, and even some of the customers acknowledged her. She casually left the four newcomers by the door as she went up to the counter.

"So, what can I do for you today, fair Tareyn?" the young man behind the register asked, flashing her a dazzling grin.

"Four Texies, Ralph," she said glumly, leaning against the mocha-colored countertop.

"Ooh," he replied with a sympathetic wince. "Can't help you there, mate. Anyone from Itex is bound to be screwed up."

"How am I going to have them battle-ready in three weeks?"

"You'll figure something out, Tare. You always do," Ralph reassured her.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but three weeks isn't very long."

"You know," Ralph began seriously, "We're not actually supposed to talk about three weeks from now up here. We wouldn't want to break the rules." They kept eye contact for a moment before they burst out laughing.

"So," Tareyn said once she was able to recompose herself, "See you down below later?"

"Yeah. Bye."

She nodded and led the four still standing by the entrance through a door marked "Employees Only" behind the counter. Behind it were the coffee house's small, neat kitchen and another door, this one with a lit, square pad glowing on the wall beside it. With an air of familiarity and impatience, Tareyn placed her palm against the pad and waited for it to scan her handprint. The door clicked open with an affirmative beep from the pad and Tareyn ushered Phoenix, Omega, Mara, and Whiskers through.

A short descent down a dimly lit staircase ended with a long, white hallway. Tareyn gave room assignments that went with several of the unobtrusive, hotel-like numbers lining the hall and went back upstairs after informing them that she'd be back later.

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It was better than a teddy bear. Whiskers pulled the little man out of his pocket by the tiny white t-shirt. The man struggled, as usual, screaming incoherently in his squeaky, high-pitched voice. Whiskers poked the man in fascination. He was perhaps four inches tall, just small enough to fit in one of Whiskers's oversized pockets without making an obvious bulge.

Eventually, the recombinant was able to understand his newfound toy's words.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BIG OAF! PUT ME DOWN! DOWN, I SAY!"

Whiskers obeyed, ashamed, and dropped the little man.

"NO, NO! CATCH ME, YOU IDIOT!" the man screamed, realizing he was going to fall a very long few feet. He flinched as his apparently imminent death approached, not breathing until after Whiskers caught him.

"Sorry," Whiskers rumbled, gently setting the man down on the floor.

"You should be, you inconsiderate loon," the man huffed, brushing himself off. "Now, take me to your leader."

"Huh?"

"Omega! Take me to Omega!"

"Omega not _lee-deer_."

"I don't care, Neanderthal! Just take me to him!"

Whiskers sighed and shoved the man back into his pocket. He walked out of room 128 and easily located Phoenix and Omega by the shouting in 124. Knocking didn't even cross his mind, but neither Phoenix nor Omega noticed when he opened the door.

"No! This is the line, Omega! You _do not_ cross this line!"

"But there's nothing there!" Omega replied in exasperation, gesturing toward the empty floor.

"That's not the point! You're supposed to stay on your side, and I'll stay on mind! The actual _line_ is invisible!"

"That doesn't make _sense_!"

Whiskers cleared his throat. "Little Man want Omega."

Phoenix looked at him strangely. "I'm sorry to break it to you, pal, but you're really not little."

"Little Man not Whiskers," the rabbit hybrid scoffed, digging a hand into his pocket and pulling out the four-inch figure. "This Little Man."

Omega and Phoenix gaped at the rabbit hybrid; Omega wondering what the miniature being wanted, and Phoenix feeling grateful that he hadn't been shoved into Whiskers's pocket.

"Greetings, Omega. I am Vincent," the little man declared.

"Er… Hello, Vincent?" Omega said hesitantly.

"I have been sent by the noble foundation known as Itex to give you your next assignment."

"You mean, like a mission?" Phoenix asked, his attention caught immediately.

Vincent ignored him. "You are to seek out the six recombinant life forms known as the Flock and terminate their existence."

"Why?" Omega asked blankly.

"What do you mean, why?!" the little man exploded. "Your only job is to follow orders!"

"But I don't _want_ to," Omega explained.

"Fine!" Vincent snapped, pulling out a miniscule black object. "I'll just perform an emotion wipe, you stubborn child!"

Before he could carry out his threat, Phoenix attacked Omega from behind.

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He watched Omega slump to the ground, out cold. A small part of him was sorry, but he could worry about that later. First he had to complete the mission.

Phoenix forced Vincent to tell him where the Flock was and then bolted out of the room. The mutant dutifully disabled the next person that tried to stop him, discovering a useful key to a room filled with all sorts of wonderfully deadly weapons. He selected a sniper's gun, complete with scope, and exited the building through the coffee house.

A few of the shop's patron screamed as he walked by with the gun in plain sight, but he shook out his wings and ignored them. Once he was out, a quick series of flaps took him into the sky and out of sight.


	6. Helicopters and Water Towers

**A/N: Yeah, guys, I'm sorry that the last chapter was confusing. Deranged ideas from an insane mind, I guess. Anyways, now that I feel like I've finally finished setting up the story, I can get it going. Provided I don't pull more Vincents. Or Whiskers-es. It's just so tempting and amusing.**

Phoenix stood rigidly in the line, realizing it would be almost impossible to convince the guards to let a suitcase occupied by a military-issue gun on the plane. He imagined the conversation:

"_What is that?"_

"_That's a gun, sir. I need to get it over to America so that I can murder six children."_

Yeah, that would go over well.

Maybe he could hijack the plane… except then he'd be hunted down by James Bauer, or Jack Bond, or whoever it was that hunted terrorists in France. Did they hunt terrorists in France? Mara had told him once that they did in the United States, but the two countries were pretty far apart. In fact, they were on different continents, much to Phoenix's dismay. Why couldn't Itex have taught him geography and spared him the embarrassment of being told by a taxi driver that kicked him out when he asked to be driven to Virginia from Germany's border?

"Next," the bored security personnel said, gesturing for Phoenix to walk through the metal detector.

Phoenix muttered a vaguely plausible excuse and walked away, fighting the urge to run. He didn't need to call any more attention to himself.

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He landed harder than he'd meant to; he misjudged distances in their rapid descent. The wet leaves were slippery under his worn sneakers, and he lost his balance. Gazzy put his arm out to catch himself, and his fingers somehow found their way into the remains of some careless hiker's yogurt cup. Yuck. He wiped his hand off on Fang's shirt, composing his features into childish innocence when the older avian hybrid turned around.

"What's for dinner?" Total asked with a yawing, sticking his head out of Fang's backpack. The Flock looked toward Max expectantly.

She hesitated, just as tired as they were. Not in the mood for hunting down rats, Gazzy guessed. "How 'bout some Taco Bell?"

"No," Iggy said, alarmed.

Gazzy fidgeted as his family members turned to stare at him.

"McDonald's, then."

This brought a groan from Nudge, but the rest agreed. They trooped off, guided by the glowing arches that floated far above the treetops. Eventually, the rest of the city came into view, and the Gasman gazed thoughtfully at a tall, pale blue water tower with the city's name printed across it, along with a feel-good motto written below it in italics: Carolynn City, _where everyday is a good day_. Fang had caught sight of the water tower as well, judging by his my-eyes-are-bleeding expression.

"Gazzy," Max said sternly, "You are not going to blow that up."

"Blow what up?" Iggy asked, his face lighting up.

"Nothing," Max attempted to assure him, but Nudge blurted out, "Water Tower."

"Excellent, Gassers! The water would…" Iggy paused, searching for the right word.

"Whoosh," Gazzy substituted.

"Exactly! It'd spill out all over the town, creating a gigantic wave-"

"Getting rid of that lame motto," Fang added, warming up to the idea.

"And turning you into wanted criminals," Max finished. "I don't think so."

"But Ma-ax," Angel whined, still thinking about the wave. "It'll be a good distraction."

Nudge made bambi eyes, a skill she'd picked up from Angel.

"No!" Max exploded. "There's nothing here to distract, and a big wave isn't a good enough reason to detonate a freakin' water tower!"

"Detonate," Iggy repeated, impressed. "Much more classy than 'blow up.'"

"I wasn't thinking about blowing up - sorry, _detonating _– the water tower anyway," Gazzy said.

"I'm disappointed in you," Iggy sniffed, moving away and accidently bumping into Fang. "This is my new favorite brother." He linked his arm in Fang's and urged his scowling sibling to skip.

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"Thanks," Phoenix said, climbing out of the cramped space of the private jet's miniature cargo hold. "I owe you one."

"Don't mention it, buddy," the pilot replied. "I'm quitting this gig tomorrow anyways. Rich people can be pushy, ya know? Time to retire and spend time with the wife and grandkids." He shook Phoenix's hand and handed him his backpack. "You take care now."

"Same to you," the stowaway said with a nod before disappearing into the early morning darkness.

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"Yo," Max said, jolting Nudge out of her dreams. "Up and at 'em. Leftover apple pies for breakfast."

"There's no time, Max," Nudge exclaimed, her words as sleepy as she was, "We've got to fix the helicopter. The rotors are broken and Indiana Jones needs it."

Gazzy stared at her in interest. "You know how to fix helicopters?"

Nudge had already fallen back asleep, whatever nonsense her mind held overflowing now only in her dreams. Max sighed and tried again.

"The helicopter!" Nudge shrieked without waking.

Iggy bolted upright, instantly wakened by the piercing noise. "The what?"

"The helicopter," Gazzy explained.

"Ah," said Iggy, "I see." He paused, and then chucked one of the McDonald's apple pies at Gazzy's head. The pastry, still in its red cardboard covering, bounced off of the Gasman and landed on Nudge. "What helicopter? We have _wings_. We don't need a helicopter." The blind boy turned to Max. "What have you done to the poor, innocent children?"

Gazzy shrugged.

Having an apple pie land on her stomach finally woke Nudge up, and she began munching on the cold foodstuff tiredly, wondering why everyone kept asking her about helicopters.

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He could feel them. Phoenix had only expected to up six mutant trails, but he didn't waste time worrying over the seventh.

His tracking ability didn't make much sense to him. All he knew was that he could feel the presence, or signatures, as he called them, of other genetically enhanced creatures. Those with stronger powers left stronger signatures. The combined signatures of the Flock had been strong enough for him to pick up while he was still over the Atlantic.

They were close now, so he landed lightly on a tree branch, trying not to make his own presence obvious. He tugged off the helmet that helped him breathe at higher altitudes and unzipped the backpack. After assembling the gun in mere seconds, he raised it to a firing position, looking through the crosshairs even though he knew he could make the shot easily.

All six bird kids were sitting around what had formerly been a campfire, chatting amiably and eating breakfast. Phoenix zeroed in on one of the kids with a weaker signature, one he'd have a harder time tracking if they got away and separated, and slid a finger around the trigger.

He began to squeeze, but then hesitated. Did he really want to kill these six? They looked almost happy, almost as if they had recovered from what Itex had done to them. The temporary assassin realized that another signature was rapidly approaching and recognized it instantly. Omega. There was no telling what Perfection Boy would do. Phoenix was running out of time to decide.

It all came down to the mission. The mission was life, was what he was created for. If he didn't have a mission, he might as well not exist at all. He _had_ to complete the mission. The words screamed through his head; _the mission… the mission…_

Phoenix pulled the trigger. The single shot rang out and hit its target.

**Ha. Aren't I special? KAPOW. (Violence obsession alert.)**

**Anyways, I'd like to hear everyone's ideas on who (or is it whom?) they think should/did die. I suppose that that does mean someone dies/just got killed in the last two sentences of this chapter, yes. Thanks again to my three reviewers. (Maybe stories that don't advertise Fax just don't get as many reviews as those that do.)**


	7. Kapow

"It was the lunatic with the wings, I tell you!" Vincent insisted, fear invading his voice.

"Who?" Tareyn asked, her head hurting from the sudden onslaught of the strange.

"Phoenix," Mara said grimly. She bent down to pull a dazed Omega to his feet.

"Right. Cocky Confidence Central kid. I remember him," Tareyn said. Her mind reeled as she tried to recall the files she had read earlier. Phoenix was the sharpshooter. The Third Faction wouldn't be happy.

She tore her thoughts away from the Third Faction and the events scheduled for three weeks later and focused on the present. Turning to Mara, she said, "I'll go after him. You three…" she paused to look at Vincent. "Four, I mean, should stay here."

Mara snorted. "No way, sister. Phoenix is in mission mode. You can't talk to him, much less take him back here. He'd just kill you."

"Then I'll convince him to give up the mission," Tareyn said, shrugging. "How hard can it be?"

"I don't think you get it. Phoenix live for the mission; he'd die before giving it up," Mara explained impatiently with Whiskers nodding solemnly behind her. "I'll go."

"Fine," Tareyn snapped. "We'll both go."

Mara nodded. "But we need Omega, too."

"Why?"

"Superhuman sacrifice."

Tareyn stared at her in horror and Omega shifted uncomfortably.

"Relax; it's a joke, kiddo. Just trust me on this one. We need him."

"Whatever," Tareyn said, giving up. "Let's move out."

"Where?" Omega asked blankly.

"To find Phoenix, smart one," Tareyn answered as she opened the door.

"Nah, really? I meant, where _is_ Phoenix?"

"Vinny know," Whiskers piped up.

Vincent squirmed in Whiskers's furry palm. "I'll never tell you!" he declared, but a hard look from Mara convinced him to give up the Flock and Phoenix's locations.

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"The forest was quiet. _Too_ quiet."

"I liked you better when you were an emotionless robot, Omega. Quit narrating before-"

"Before what? You sic Whiskers on me?"

"You are all fools," Vincent exclaimed. "Why would anyone want to stop Itex, the sacred rulers of the earth?" He had apparently spent most of his time on the plane trip over the Atlantic brooding on this question.

"Sacred rulers of the earth?" Mara asked incredulously. "I don't know who or what you are, Mr. Van Gogh, but I do know this: Itex would kill anyone; kids, grandparents, janitors. They don't care. That's why we're going after Phoenix, shrimp; because no one should be killed for existing, because he's one of us and we're not going to stand back and watch him become a murderer, because killing is wrong-"

"We _get_ it already!" Tareyn shouted.

"Do you?" Mara questioned cryptically, casting an appraising glance over her.

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Omega felt free. It seemed like the perfect time to run around at random and sing loudly, because today was a special day. Today he had emotions.

He had destroyed Vincent's miniature emotion-wiper, and now, for the first time in his life, the feelings (joy, enthusiasm, sadness, pain) could build up. For the first time, when someone told a joke, he could laugh instead of only acknowledging that it was funny. He could be happy. Sure, it meant that he could be sad, but now he knew that anything was better than the void he had become so accustomed to.

Best of all, he wasn't going to let that void come back. He'd started saving up the stronger feelings and stored them in a part of the soul he hadn't known existed. He hadn't found the strongest ones yet, like love, but he had started.

Soon, he might even know how to not.

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"You'd better hurry," Vincent admitted reluctantly, "Phoenix's almost caught up with them."

"How long do we have?" Mara asked sharply.

"Two, three minutes," Vincent answered. "Give or take."

"And you waited until now to tell us?!" Mara broke into a sprint, and Omega caught up easily, enjoying what he thought of as a light pace. The carpet of leaves crunched nicely underfoot in places where it wasn't wet, a natural reminder of the rapidly approaching winter.

"What are you doing?" Tareyn shouted at him, and he tried to make himself as small as possible, hating being yelled at. "You can catch up with Phoenix."

"Oh." Omega realized that this was a good point and sped up.

The trees flashed by, individual trunks almost impossible to make out at these speeds, but even harder for Omega. Leaves suddenly seemed more threatening when each little brown patch could send him sprawling. Wooden branches clawed at his face; thorns grabbed at his clothes. Roots snuck up slyly and then lashed out in attempts to stop him. Squirrels chattered angrily as he blew past.

Suddenly, he caught sight of the matte black helmet. Then came the artificial bang of Phoenix's gun.

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The apple pie turned to dust in her mouth. She let her expression fall slack as he felt the searing agony. There was too much pain; she couldn't keep her eyes open for long. The last thing she saw was Fang's horrified expression transforming into cold anger, and then all that remained was the distant sensation of warm liquid trickling down her front. Soon, that, too, was gone. It all was.

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At first, Fang was too shocked to move, but the realization that she was gone hit home fast. He would kill whoever had done this. That was his job. He was her brother.

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What had _happened_? First there was that sound, the gunshot, and then nothing. The Flock didn't normally act like this, didn't normally stand around waiting to be shot at. Iggy took several steps back, until he felt the ground disappear from beneath one foot. He unfurled his wings, in case he slipped off the cliff, and waited.

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Gazzy stared in morbid fascination at the blood. _Was it real?_ The thought sounded stupid as soon as it floated into his mind. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were the Flock. They were invincible.

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Total squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't look at her corps and know that he could've prevented it. People weren't supposed to die because of him.

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All Angel could see was her older sister's scrambled thoughts in her final moments. Terror she'd never felt coursed through her veins, and pain that didn't belong to her stemmed from her chest. When her older sister finally died, Angel was glad for a moment because the pain ended.

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Phoenix was surprised to find that he didn't care anymore. Something far away told him that he should be disgusted with himself, but he didn't even care about that. All that mattered was the mission, now.

He raised the gun for a second shot.

**A/N: Yeah, I know, I didn't really listen to any of you. But trust me, I do have plans for Total. BIG plans. Fun, kapow, sci-fi plans. And I know that I'm still leaving it sort of hanging. Sorry.**

**Oh, by the way, if anyone wants to read my happier-ish oneshot where I decided not to kill anyone, it's the only other thing I have posted. It's all Fax-y and non-death-y and probably better written, too. But enough of that. Time for me to figure out what's going to happen next, and maybe even why.**


	8. Coming Together

**A/N: Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. On the plus side, I've got the ending planned out, and I'm thinking about raising the rating. Fun.**

**Anyways, this chapter isn't the best, but YOU NEED TO KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THE MISSION IS. Now, go forth and... read. About the mission.**

He placed a foot against the tree trunk and used his momentum to launch himself upwards. Lightning reflexes allowed him to push off a passing branch with the exact amount of force necessary. Omega found himself at the right height and grabbed Phoenix by the throat before he began to fall.

Phoenix struggled wildly as Omega's weight dragged him to the ground, but he didn't have time to attach himself to any sort of anchor. He smashed his elbow into Omega's face, and the stronger mutant reeled back, blood spraying everywhere. Phoenix attempted once more to break his grip, but Omega hung on doggedly.

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_Dead, dead, dead… _Fang focused on the single word, leaving the rest of his thoughts at blissful nonexistence. All that was left was Nudge's still-warm corpse and automated revenge.

He could hear Max's pounding footsteps behind him as he ran toward the source of the shot. They were locked into a dead sprint, tearing the browning grass haphazardly as they passed speeds not even an Olympic runner could reach.

When he came upon the two teenage boys fighting desperately over the matte black gun that held one bullet too few, he jumped into the makeshift melee without caring or thinking about which of them had fired the shot. Fang ripped the two apart with a powerful, two-handed shove and tackled the wingless one first.

The silvery-eyed teen struggled to get him off without harming him, but Fang needed no further convincing when an upward glance showed his other instant enemy pointing the gun at Max's face. _Not her,_ he prayed silently, knowing he couldn't reach her in time. _Me, first. _Anyone_ but her._

Before the assassin could gun her down, Max saved her own life with a quick kick to his face, reminding Fang not for the first time that she didn't need him or anyone else to stay alive. The assassin's face now resembled the taller stranger's, with crimson blood leaking over pale skin.

Taking Fang by surprise, the silver-eyed boy pushed him away. He leapt for the assassin and wrestled him to the ground. The two beat at each other effectively, temporarily taking Max and Fang aback with their hateful ferociousness. In the small time it took the two Flock members to remember that they had seen worse thing in their lifetime, more strangers Fang didn't recognize arrived.

There were three of them, each looking progressively odder than the one before. First came a girl, about as old and almost as tall as Max, with medium hued hair and mud streaked clothes. Then there was a woman Fang would never have classified as being at all relevant to his life (he probably would have stereotyped her as a lawyer or doctor or someone belonging to what he considered a rather bland, overrated, and overtly common profession), until she opened her mouth enough to show brutal fangs. Lastly, and quite possibly least, came a man who frankly reminded Fang of a white, fuzzy potato. He looked about as intelligent as a potato, though he was obviously too large, especially considering that the three older members of the Flock combined would only barely be enough to reach his size.

The unlikely trio seemed to understand the situation instantly and pulled the two apart, leaving the assassin beating at the air in confusion. The fuzzy-looking man pinned him to the ground with little apparent effort and clear, pleasant patience.

The three new arrivals, the tall boy, the assassin, and Max and Fang stared appraisingly at each other. Neither faction broke the wary silence, as if neither was sure if they were looking at friends or enemies. Finally, Max broke the spell of suspicion with an incredulous word.

"Omega?"

The silver-eyed teen nodded slowly.

"Did you come here to kill me?"

"No," Omega said, as if the very idea that he would do something like that had never occurred to him. "I came to save you."

A dormant, primordial part of Fang reared up, indignant at having been replaced as Max's protector.

"I don't need anyone to save me," Max said icily. "Especially not one of Itex's pawns."

The beast-like feeling settled down in disappointment, glowering back in its buried lair.

"But I don't _work_ for Itex anymore."

"Right."

It took Omega a moment to hear the sarcasm. "It's true! I learned how to not!"

_How to 'not?' _Fang had known Itex's whitecoats were insane, but he hadn't thought that meant their "creations" had to be just as deranged. Omega didn't look crazy.

Max looked as confused as he felt. "What are you talking about?"

"How to not," Omega repeated. "How to not obey."

"Then why did you kill Nudge?" Max demanded, blinking angrily, her fists trembling by her sides.

"I didn't. Phoenix did." Omega pointed to the assassin, who snarled at the mention of his name and fought against the big man in an effort to attack.

"How'd he end up with a name like that?" Max asked, distracted.

"What kind of name is 'Maximum Ride?'" Phoenix retorted, and Fang was surprised the assassin's speech was more than feral growls. "What are you, a roller coaster?"

Fang snapped. He lunged for Phoenix, ready to tear the smaller mutant apart, ready to feel hot blood soak his hands like it had soaked Nudge's chest, ready to watch the mocking laughter turn to horror, and then nothing at all as the light in Phoenix's eyes fade, ready to kill the impertinent punk that dared to insult his Max. However, the fanged woman blocked his way, her face filled with fierce pride and regal command. He sidestepped, but found her in the way once more.

"Move," he barked, quickly growing irritated.

"You're not going to kill him. It's not his fault."

"No one pulled the trigger for him." Fang moved past her, but was forced to stop when she took hold of his sleeve.

"You don't get it, kid. He doesn't know what he's doing."

"Yes, I do," Phoenix insisted, raising his head off the ground. "I'm killing them; completing the mission!"

"Not if I kill you first," Fang growled, but stood still long enough to hear the woman out. He could spare a moment or two before dealing with the murderous madman.

"He's obsessed with 'missions;' thinks that his life's purpose is to carry out any assignment Itex gives him. At first, the idea of the mission lingered in the back of his mind, and he didn't really care about it and wouldn't bother risking anything for it, but with each task he completes, with each person he kills, the mission becomes more important to him. By now, he'd kill anyone, even himself, if he thought the mission required it," Mara continued.

"Yeah, I think I'll kill him," Fang decided.

"_Wait._ He can't help it. He doesn't have any way to snap out of it until he completes the mission. Otherwise, he'd be fine."

"So we're supposed to wait around for him to kill us?" Max butted in. "I don't think so."

_Max's approval. Good._ Fang rolled back his shoulders one at a time, waiting for his heart rate to slow. He wanted this to last as long as it had for Nudge.

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_Not this time, pal. _Phoenix waited grimly for the boy in the dark clothes to approach; keeping every muscle tense in preparation for the attack he knew was coming. He'd win, of course. There was no way he'd let one of his targets get away, much less beat him. The mission would be one step closer to completion as soon as Darth Vader Junior was within range.

But then one of the other targets had to speak up and halt DVJ in his stalking tracks. Phoenix's lip curled in anger and he glared at her, though she seemed not to notice.

"Hold on a sec, Fang," she said, and then turned to Mara. "Is there a way to fix him?"

"What, you mean like neu-" Tareyn began, confused. She shut up when everyone stared at her.

Mara shook her head in response to Max's question, but then looked at Whiskers thoughtfully. "Whiskers, do you still have Vincent?"

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When 'Whiskers' (weird name, since he didn't have a beard or anything) pulled Vincent out of his pocket, Max was ready to: a. take on Phoenix if he escaped the fuzzball's now one-armed hold, and b. crack up. This dude was _small_. Like, smaller than Total compared to an Eraser, small. Where did these wackos even _find_ someone that tiny? Sure, Vincent (like in Van Gogh, 'cept this guy had two ears and probably didn't get much painting done) had most likely come from the crackhead scientists at Itex, but would anyone _want_ to make a person that small? Had they crossed his DNA with a mosquito's or something?

Vincent looked distinctly peeved, his crossed arms adding to the effect. "What did you wake me up for this time?"

"How fix Phoenix?" Whiskers asked plainly, dangling the little man at eye level.

"You want to neut-"

"Not you, too," Mara groaned. Yippee, another escaped hybrid from the funny farm. "He means, how do we fix Phoenix's mind?"

"Phoenix's mind is a genetic marvel," Vincent reminded her airly. "How else could he have such perfect aim?"

"The mission," Mara said impatiently, and Phoenix twitched.

"Ah, well, the mission," Vincent said nervously. "There's not much I can do about that anymore."

"What d'you mean, anymore?"

"Omega destroyed the device I need."

Mara shot him a despising glance. "Thanks."

Itex's Superboy shrugged sheepishly.

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They were insane. They wanted to get rid of the _mission_. He _needed_ the mission. He screamed as much at them, but the only results were Omega wincing at the noise and DVJ threatening to hit him over the head.

"DO IT!" he roared, thrashing madly under Whiskers's paw-like hand. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Before DVJ could make good on his threat, however, Ride spoke up again. "Listen, Vincent, you're going to find a way to fix this, and it's going to be fast, or I'll snap your spine into a dozen pieces and stuff your miniscule brain into a blender."

The coward cowed easily and told her that there was a way, but he'd need the proper equipment and specialists to do it. Whiskers eagerly claimed that he was special and then proceeded to wonder what had caused Mara to groan so heartfeltly.

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_Great. Where is a group of mutant freaks going to find "specialists?"_

"_You already know where, Max."_

She frowned._ Are you saying you can fix this?_

"_Your mother and I can, yes."_

_What about the equipment? It doesn't sound like the kind of stuff a vet would keep around._

"_Not exactly. But California's not too far from here."_

_No._

"_No what, Max?"_

_No, we are not going back to the School, Jeb._

"_Max-"_

_NO. _She could tell that her thoughts sounded somewhat hysterical, but she didn't care.

"_Maximum, you don't have a choice… Unless you're planning on killing Phoenix."_

_Maybe I am._

"_No, you're not. You're not a killer, Max. You're better than that."_

_Fine. See you in California._

"_I'll be waiting."_


	9. Fireside

**A/N: So, fun times writing by flashlight. It rocks. Heh. I even came up with a formula: flashlight plus pillows squared X Christmas lights through window equals somewhat more serious writing. This doesn't really apply when I come with ideas during English class, but... hey, those things are still interesting.**

**Oh, and for anyone wondering, I've moved my Faleste to its own document, so that the rest of the world can bask in its wonderful glow. Or be confused.**

"You're kidding, right?" Iggy said, an ironic smile that would have been all-out laughter only hours before playing across his face. "Going to California to meet Jeb at the School? As if you would ever agree to that.

"We don't have a choice," Max said flatly. "Besides, it's not _that_ long of a flight."

"From Virginia to California? You really _are_ kidding. Anyways, we couldn't fly." Iggy took a sip of his orange soda and leaned against the tree behind him with a sigh, his eyes only half-open.

"Why not?" Max asked blankly.

"You planning on taking those three?" Iggy gestured toward the new, wingless arrivals, accidentally splashing droplets of his drink on Total.

"….."

"Yeah."

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"Stop here for the night," Max ordered from behind the driver's seat.

"It's a forest," Tareyn stated.

"What's your point?"

Tareyn muttered something under her breath, but Mara pulled the twelve passenger van off the road nonetheless. The leopard hybrid was barely able to find a clear path over the bumpy ground and through the trees, and Total's shouted advice from the general area of the trunk didn't help.

The group rushed out of the vehicle, nearly trampling one another in the mad dash for precious space. Gazzy and Angel volunteered to collect wood and build a fire, desperate to escape the horrible mob. Newer acquaintances tried almost anything to simply look and feel like they were doing something useful.

Fang and Iggy were the last ones out of the van, dragging a heavily bound Phoenix between them. His shouted threats made Max wish they had a roll of duct tape, but it wasn't the sort of commodity the Flock usually brought along.

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The little girl bent down to snatch another hopefully dry stick from the brown leaves. She sniffed back tears and was again thankful that Total wasn't there. She had to be strong like Fang, for Max. Realizing that the stick she was holding was wet with dew, she dropped it and continued her search for firewood, nearly running into a familiar fuzzy form.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked, frowning.

"Lost," Whiskers whispered brokenly.

"The campsite's this way," Angel explained, pointing in the direction from which she'd come.

He shook his head urgently. "Lost," he repeat, saying the word with more emphasis than before. "Wanna go home."

She rested her sticks on the forest floor and wrapped her arms around him; a child comforting her sentient stuffed animal.

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"Max," Omega began hesitantly. "I think I love you."

She looked up in surprise, trying to ignore Iggy's sniggers. "Uhm… can we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Okay."

Max led him a safe distance away from the campsite, thousands of confused thoughts shooting through her mind as she trampled the overgrown underbrush. Where had _this_ come from? "Omega," she said, choosing her words carefully, "Do you even know what love _is_?"

"Yes," he answered automatically. "Of course I do."

"No, seriously. Why do you suddenly love me? A week or so ago you were trying to kill me."

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

"Forget it. Now, start talking."

"Well… You're a girl," he blurted out. "And- and you're the right age, and pretty, and aren't I supposed to love you?"

"You love me because I'm a girl," Max repeated flatly.

"And you're a good fighter, and athletic and… stuff."

"What about smart?" Max asked, relieved to find that it wasn't anything serious.

"No, not really."

"_What_?!"

"I'm smarter than you."

"Why? 'Cause you're a boy? Go back to the campsite, you sexist pig." She shoved him, and he stepped back in surprise.

"But I love you."

"No, you don't. You don't know _how_ to love, Omega. You don't feel, you just think you do." She saw the hurt in his face and tried not to roll her eyes. "Maybe someday you'll learn."

Puzzled, he stood still for several moments after she had walked away, his idea of devastation washing over him. Then he shrugged and went back to camp.

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"Your watch," Max said, suppressing a yawn.

The feline hybrid shook herself into reluctant wakefulness and scooted closer to the smoky fire with a nod. Part of her was amazed that they trusted her enough to let her have a shift, but they were, after all, kids, and tired kids at that. Uneventful minutes passed by idly, and finally Maximum Ride fell asleep.

Mara risked a peek at Phoenix's dejected form, trussed up as it was. Her oldest friend was shivering in the cold, and all she was doing was poking the crackling fire with a stick. She swallowed, feeling as if she was mocking him, and in the playful manner she and Miles had known so well.

The walls were breaking apart. Every last steel defense she had was tumbling to the frosty ground, and it was a long was down.

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She was coming for him; coming to pull him back like she always had. Why couldn't Chariot understand that this time he want to go back. Now, he couldn't see why he ever had.

But maybe she could still be useful. As she turned away, he let out a pathetic, entirely false cough. The sound, and the whimper he added afterward, was almost completely muffled by the cloth stuffed in his mouth, but he could tell she had heard. After several seconds of silence, she finally put down the stick and stood. Phoenix waited hungrily as she padded noiselessly across the small distance between them. He would only have to wait a little bit longer with the utter agony of leaving the mission unfinished.

"Miles," she whispered, coming down on one knee beside him. "Can you hear me?"

Phoenix recognized the name with disdain, but he forced his expression into childish fear instead of the contempt nonetheless. He shivered, the action this time emphasized rather than feigned, and nodded eagerly, a kindergartner asking for a puppy.

"I'll untie you," she began, hesitating before continuing. "If you promise not to kill anyone."

All she wanted was a simple promise, a few words to cling to? He nodded, emitting hopefulness to the best of his ability.

"Miles, I need you to promise to forget about the mission." Her tone was firm this time, though her voice was still quiet.

Another promise; more meaningless words and oaths.

She began to untie him, and he held still with forced patience throughout the mind-numbing procedure. How had the _blind_ kid learned to tie knots so well? At last she finished, and he rose shakily to his feet.

"Come on, the fire's warmer." Mara rested a steady hand on his shoulder, and he almost flinched away. "What's wrong?"

Phoenix took a smooth step forward and wrapped a hand around her throat. Slowly, purposefully, he began to crush her windpipe. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling; he'd killed others the same way. In all truth, it was satisfying to see that dawning realization in their eyes; to see their dead, horrified gaze afterward.

Eyes wide in disbelief, she sank to her knees. She mouthed that dreaded word as she tried to cut past the mission to the person she knew. _"Miles."_

He shook his head, a cruel smile flickering on his features for the shortest of moments. "My name is Phoenix."

Strangely, she didn't react the way she was supposed to. The leopard hybrid didn't descend into despair like his other victims had. Mara's steel skeleton came back, and with the last of her fading strength she snatched a burning stick from the fire and raked it across Phoenix's own throat. With a cry, he released her and stumbled backwards, feeling the searing pain almost instantly.

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Noise. Fang cracked an eye open irritably, wanting nothing more than to return to sleep. Still, he managed to get to his feet and tackle Phoenix in one fluid motion. He kept the shorter teen down with his body weight, kicking a snoring Iggy repeatedly with one foot.

"What?" Iggy snapped, not bothering to complete the useless action of opening his eyes.

"Rope."

"Oh, you woke me up to say rope, did you?" His tone became angry. "Fang, you idiot, I'm trying to sleep." He promptly slumped back down, out cold.

"Iggy," Fang growled. "IGGY!" The blind boy refused to wake.

Fang turned to Mara, knowing full well that she must have untied Phoenix, but not particularly caring other than the fact that he'd been woken up. "Can you tie knots?"

She couldn't. "Well, who around here can?" Fang asked, taking a punch from Phoenix squarely in the jaw.

"Whiskers."

He prayed she was kidding, but Mara simply woke the drowsy rabbit hybrid and had him take his foot off Omega's stomach.

"Help tie Phoenix up."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"It's like tying your shoes, Whiskers."

His eyes brightened, and he helped Fang bind Phoenix to a sturdy oak tree with a series of incomprehensible loops, knots, and tangles. Fang stared at the mess of rope, reflecting back on his first lessons from Jeb on how to tie shoes. Judging by the disaster before him, something had been seriously wrong with the bunny who was supposed to hop into its burrow. Maybe the rabbit standing before him grinning proudly was even more addled.

Soon, the somewhat mentally unstable hybrid padded away to return to his fuzzy slumber at Mara's insistence. As she too found a cozy spot by the fire, Fang uttered a single cold sentence. "Make sure it doesn't happen again."

She stiffened; whether from anger or fear was impossible to tell, but gave a jerked nod nonetheless.

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Quiet at last. It was his third shift of the night, but though he knew he should wake Max or Iggy instead, it was almost sunrise anyway. He could do without an extra hour or so of sleep.

Fang pulled his knees up to his chest, tucking his hands into the sleeves of sweatshirt for the added warmth. The Flock didn't own a pair of gloves between them, other than the pink ones that Nudge had given Angel last Christmas.

Nudge. The name hit Fang like a train, leaving him breathless and dangerously close to toppling off the tree limb he was perched on so precariously. He hadn't had time to think about it all day, instead helping Max juggle the task of getting them to California. His last conscious thought related to her death had been more along the lines of killing Phoenix in revenge.

Flights would be quieter now, without her. Sure, Iggy or Total might try to fill the silence, but it wouldn't be the same, and they'd give up eventually. Besides that, Fang couldn't help but feel as if he'd lost his kid. There was Gazzy and Iggy, Angel and Max, but no more Nudge and Fang.

The girl had driven him crazy with her chatter at times, but she'd also once confessed that it was because he was the only one who just _listened_. They'd had some strange, mostly if not completely Nudge-driven conversations, ranging from a crush Nudge had had on a boy in D.C. to why it was a bad idea to stick a hand in an oven. He missed her already.

A cracking twig brought him out of his thoughts and he mentally cursed his stupidity. Watch wasn't the right time for thinking through his problems. It didn't take long to realize that the noise had been a result of Phoenix's constant shifting, but Fang didn't let himself relax. Next time it could be something dangerous.

Fang shot a loathing glance in Phoenix's direction as the bound boy continued to move. "Cut it out."

"Make me."

Sighing grumpily, Fang carefully climbed out of the tree without disturbing a sleeping Max on the branch below and paced over to Phoenix. "Trust me, I'd like nothing better."

"Coward," Phoenix spat.

"Murderer," Fang retorted, but his reply only seemed to amuse Phoenix.

"We're more alike than you think, _Fang_," Phoenix said.

"I'm nothing like you."

"Oh, yeah? You called me a murderer, but are you really any better? How many have you killed?"

"It's not the same thing. I _had_ to kill." Fang wondered why he was bothering to defend himself against Nudge's murderer.

"Yes, it is. You killed for the mission."

"I don't have a mission," Fang growled. "I'm not like you."

"Yes, you do. _She's_ the mission." Phoenix looked significantly over Fang's shoulder, and the avian hybrid turned to look in spite of himself. There was Max, her brown and tan wings hanging beneath the branch where she slept. "Mine's to kill her; yours is to save her."

"If come within twenty feet of her, I'll kill _you_," Fang said, grabbing the collar of Phoenix's shirt.

"Fang, Fang, Fang," Phoenix chuckled. "I could kill her from a mile away."

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and again, review if you exist. If not, don't bother.**


	10. Backdraft

**A/N: ****I've been re-thinking the ending for this story, mostly because I've been trying to decide whether to do a sequel. I liked my first idea. You three (because at this point I'm assuming there's only three readers) probably wouldn't/won't like it. So, I've got some options I'd like your opinion on: A. I write the original and better ending. B. I write an ending I haven't come up with yet that most likely wouldn't be as good idea-wise. C. I finish this off with the original ending, and then add the alternate, not-as-fun-for-Atkid ending, which would allow room for a sequel I still might not write.**

**Personally, I like option A the best.**

"No."

Fang turned around, gun in hand. "No what?"

"No guns, moron. That's the rule," Max said flatly.

"It's a stupid rule," Fang replied, rolling his eyes.

She seemed surprised, but only let the hurt look cross her face for the quickest of seconds. The Flock hadn't gotten this far by falling apart at every putdown. "If we start using guns, we'll be as bad as they are."

"As bad as they are? Wake up, Max. We're not living in a movie. I know you want to be the hero, and you're pretty damn good at it, but this is the real world. It's not black and white; not like the world's only made of self-righteous mutant freak heroes, Erasers, and clueless scientists," Fang said harshly. He pointed toward their campsite. "Those kids back there are all I've got, and I'm not going to let them die."

Max pushed at the dead leaves with a shoed toe. "You have me," she pointed out, trying not to sound sullen.

"Do I, Max?" Fang said sadly, softly. "The farther we get, the more you pull away. It's like… something's changed between us again. I've heard you cry at night Max. I've seen your bruised and bleeding knuckles the next morning, the skin half gone from punching trees.

"You used to be able to tell me anything; before Jeb left. You'd come into my room and lean and sniffle against my shoulder until you were ready to let it all out in one teary burst. Then you changed into Max the Invincible, the leader who could take on armies and live. The one that didn't need her best friend anymore, except as another soldier."

"I'm stronger now, idiot. But maybe you're right, maybe I don't need you anymore," Max shot back, clenched fists shaking by her side.

"Fine." Fang meant to snarl that last word, filling it with his rolling anger, but it came out cold, like everything did now. He snapped his wings out and flew off, leaving Max in the icy backwash. She squeezed her eyes shut and took and trembling breath, but held the tears in. She was strong enough now.

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"That was smooth."

Max whirled around, adopting a defensive posture even as her subconscious labeled the voice as a friendly.

"Tell our resident master of angst that you don't want him around, why don't you? While you're at it, maybe you should tell Gazzy that he could've stopped those Erasers from ever kidnapping his sister if he'd tried harder. Tell Angel that she should've been able to sense Nudge's murder coming. I'm sure Total would love to know you think he's a completely useless ball of fur. You haven't told me yet about how much I slow you guys down because I'm blind."

She opened her mouth, furious and feeling like he'd punched her gut, but Iggy uncrossed his arms long enough to hold out a hand to signal he wasn't done yet.

"I know none of that's true. That's kind of the point, actually. You know it's not true, just like you know that you _do_ need Fang." He settled himself more comfortably against the tree, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself. Max took a deep breath, but let it out when she realized she didn't have enough words to fill it.

"I hate you."

"But you looove Fang." Iggy smirked.

"Shut up."

"Ooh, that was the comeback of the century right there. What happened to the sarcasm-filled Max of old?"

"She's on vacation."

Iggy adopted a deeper voice. "Her heart flew away on the wings of," he paused for breath, and when he continued in was in a falsetto, "Looove!"

Max shoved him. "Watch it, bomb boy."

"Oh, should I have said the wings of Fang? Sorry, I'll try again." He opened his mouth wider and thrust out an arm.

"Do you have a death wish?"

**A/N: On a side note, I should probably apologize for taking so long to update. Sorry. The only thing I've been doing on fanfiction for the past couple of weeks is reading The Riddlyr by ArmageddonChild. You should all read it. It rocks.**


	11. Ally Annihilation

**A/N: I think I had too much fun writing this one. I might have tried too hard as well.**

Fang came back. He always did; in the end. By the time Max and Iggy walked back into the camp, he already had everyone positioned snugly in the white van. Unfortunately, there were complications, because life is never that simple for the great Maximum Ride.

Somehow, Vincent had lost his pants. Had if been Fang or Iggy they could have simply replaced them with, say, whichever lucky passerby's they found first. This practice didn't work for four-inch tall men.

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Fang got stuck with pants duty. Where do you go when you need to clothe someone four inches tall? The local Wal-Mart, of course.

He made a strange sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, before he realized what he was doing. Reminding himself for the thousandth time that the people in this store would never see him again, Fang ducked into the pink-strewn aisle. He flinched in horror, forcing himself to stay where he was.

Barbie dolls surrounded him, each grinning their devious little smiles. Fake cheerfulness erupted from the center of the desecration of all things Fang, emitted by a life-sized doll. Her lead-painted blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the glaring fluorescent light, and Fang could have sworn he felt demonic malevolence pulsating in the air.

Happy-go-lucky catchphrases and play make-up made him want to gag, but he managed to stagger to the display of miniature Tommy's and Kelly's nonetheless. Barbie's little sister could well have been he illegitimate child in Fang's opinion, but he wasn't here to request Ken be careful where he put that thing. He had a task given to him by Max, and he'd fulfill it if it killed him.

Fang picked up one of the plastic cases at random and tossed it to Whiskers. "Ask Vincent what he thinks of that."

The bumbling hybrid tugged out a furiously muttering Vincent. "Says no tutus."

Confused, Fang looked down at the shelf he'd grabbed it from and realized his mistake. He'd picked up a ballerina Kelly. Shuddering when it sunk in that he'd actually touched something that diabolical, he grabbed a sledding Tommy instead.

"How 'bout this?"

"Wants short sleefs, too."

The only toy small enough with short sleeves was a lemonade stand Kelly. Fang picked up the second case, thankful he hadn't had breakfast yet, and dashed to the checkout.

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"Who sent you?"

Phoenix opened his eyes, surprised to find the small black dog looking down at him, much less talking. "Why do you care, furball?"

"Answer me now, assassin," the dog growled.

"Was that supposed to be threatening? 'Cause it didn't work."

"Do you know what I am, you insolent brat?"

"A freakish mutt with a big ego?" Phoenix's voice was hoarser than it had been the day before, damaged now by his encounter with a flaming stick.

"I'm an Eraser."

An incredulous grin spread across Phoenix's face, and he began chuckling. "You're a fleabag, not a big, bad Eraser."

"All Erasers have fleas," Total replied, scratching behind his left ear unconsciously. "And you don't have to be big to be an Eraser."

"Yeah?" Phoenix said challengingly. "Then let's see you shapeshift."

"I can't do it. That's why I'm working for Itex; so they can fix me."

"Abstinence is key."

"Be silent, you immature halfwit, and tell me what Itex wants me to do," Total commanded, annoyed.

"Which one is it, shut up or tell?"

"Since you clearly can't be silent for even a few seconds-"

"Yeah, yeah, lay off it. Look, my mission doesn't include delivering instructions to little Scotties. You'll have to find someone else."

Total sneered in disgust and knocked him out.

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"Attention!" Iggy barked, scowling when his troops did not snap to. "Captain Terror, Comrade Armageddon, Commander Doom, why are you not obeying orders?"

"Who?" Angel asked blankly, not even trying to infiltrate Iggy's jumbled mind.

"Stupidhead," Gazzy scoffed with eight year-old scorn. "I'm obviously Commander Doom."

"You appointed yourself Captain Terror back in D.C., Gazzers," Iggy said, sighing theatrically. "And Celeste is obviously Comrade Armageddon."

"My new name is Commander Doom?" Angel asked dubiously.

"'Course it is. Now, we have been appointed a mission by Commander-in-Chief Demise to gather rations from our army that will last us until the neutralization of enemy number one, Bloodbath," Iggy explained.

"Meaning…?" Angel asked.

Iggy groaned. "Food, soldier! We need food!"

Both younger children perked up at this, and Gazzy could have sworn Celeste's eyes gleamed; awfully suspicious for a stuffed omnivore.

"Ravioli!" Gazzy exclaimed, and would have dashed for the canned foods aisle if not for Iggy's grab at the back of his shirt.

"No cans, remember? They're too heavy. We're looking for basic, light-weight bird kid survival stuff."

"I don't eat bird seed," Angel declared.

"Thanks for the information. Now, think, soldier!" Iggy said, returning to his military bark and earning giggles from a passing curly-haired toddler by doing so.

"Beef jerky!" Gazzy shouted triumphantly, thrusting a fist into the air and almost letting out his wings for a victory flight. There were already birds in the warehouse-like store anyway. What could one flying kid hurt?

"Good work, but tone it down, Captain. The civilians are staring," Iggy pointed out.

"Granola bars!" Angel cried, realizing she had said the words a bit too loud when Iggy glared at her. "Sorry."

Iggy shook his head, then tensed as he barely heard the plod of footsteps approaching over the squeaking of rusty shopping carts.

"How may I help you today?" a voice said, the words pleasant bu the tone strained.

The blind teen thought furiously, having been kicked out of too many stores not to know what was coming. "Capri sun," he whispered to the man urgently, as if it were a matter of life and death.

"Aisle seven," the employee said, his voice as confused as Max and Fang's melodramatic near-romance.

Feigning a sigh of relief, Iggy clapped the man on the shoulder, a brief squeeze confirming his scrawny build. "You are part of the Revolution, then?"

"The Rev-?" the man began asking before Iggy cut him off.

"I am sure Head Quarters sent word of my arrival, fellow oppressed one. I am Admiral Arcane, third in command of the Wage Revolution. You have undoubtedly heard of me."

"Doesn't the 'arcane' imply that I shouldn't have?"

"Only if you are not a part of the WaR," Iggy said sharply, forming the abbreviation that would probably still be lost on the man effortlessly.

"But I've never heard of it!" the man protested.

Iggy opened his eyes wide and stepped back as if this was unthinkable, nearly knocking over what smelled like a shampoo display. "You are not part of the fight against hard, loyal workers like yourself being paid minimum wage, and sometimes even less? Do you not wish for enough money to support yourself and your family?"

"Well… I have a three year-old daughter…"

"Excellent! We will begin your training immediately!" Iggy threw an arm around the man and led him off, tossing a wind to Angel and the Gasman. "What was your name, again?"

"Ramon," the man said, puffing out his chest.

"For now on you will be known as Ally Annihilation."

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"Quickly, out here!" Ramon whispered, waving Iggy, Gazzy, and Angel through the store's back door. They trotted out, arms full of stolen food.

"You have my thanks, Ally Annihilation," Iggy said gravely before running off into the parking lot.

"Viva la Revolution!" Gazzy yelled over his shoulder, the sound slightly muffled by half-chewed beef jerky.

Ramon waved proudly and snuck back into the store, glad to have fought the good fight.

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And so it was that Operation Pants was complete, with Commander-in-Chief demise delivering supplies like duct tape, General Grave fetching pants, and Admiral Arcane liberating foodstuff. There was much dancing and singing and beef-jerky-eating around the fire that night.


	12. Sam

**A/N: Uhm... maybe I was supposed to put the comic relief /after/ the stuff that makes you feel bad. Well, if it helps, you can always go back to chapter eleven after reading.**

Tareyn flicked her digital watch irritably, and the glowing numbers blinked back into existence. She'd have to replace the batteries soon. A brief look at the screen did nothing to improve her mood; she still had twenty minutes of watch left. The period wasn't as long as it could have been, but it was a little past one, and she was tired.

Sighing, she kicked a piece of gravel into the crackling fire, wondering idly if it would really explode as the blind boy had said earlier. After a minute or so no unusual pops had taken place, so she paced around the small campsite, stepping carefully over slumbering bodies. How much longer could her shift possibly last?

"My watch." The words seemed to come from nowhere, and she looked around wildly. Her hand darted to the pocket of her jeans, which had always seemed, for some reason, to be the best place to keep her pocket knife. It just wasn't very comfortable to keep in her shoe, or hair, or bra, or anywhere else.

"Down here, oh wise one," it said, and she looked to the ground to see the fluffy black dog.

"_You're_ on watch next?" Tareyn asked, amused. "I thought it was supposed to be Max."

"What's that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm some kind of dumb animal?" Total asked indignantly.

She stared down at him, cold thoughts racing through her mind before she could stop them. How hard would it be to murder the Scottie? Her hand wasn't far from her knife; she could have the blade embedded in his heart in a matter of seconds. A simple twist of his tiny neck could leave him lifeless, and no one would hear him die. Tareyn shook herself, effectively bringing her thoughts back to reality.

"Whatever you say, mutt. Your watch it is."

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_One more try,_ Total thought, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, _it _has_ to work this tonight._ For the thousandth time, he willed himself to morph, to go back to his more humanoid form. He smiled blissfully as he felt the transformation taking place, already imagining what it would be like to finally walk on two legs again. Slowly, he eased his eyes open… and found himself staring at furry paws.

Tears of frustration and bitter disappointment leaked out, coloring his dark fur a truer black. This was how he had been for years; trapped inside his canine form. Other Eraser thought _they_ had it bad; thought _they_ were the ones that were never fully human. Total was never human at all.

Months ago, the night before Angel opened his cage in the institute, Itex had promised to release him when he had finished working for them. For what seemed like forever he had waited for that magical, freeing assignment. Now it might finally be here, but it seemed like he still had an eternity to wait.

_Riiip._ Total turned around with a jump, barely holding in a sharp yip, and saw Erasers standing just beyond the edge of the campsite. The largest, a brute with long, tangled fur, stood by the fire. He spit out the plastic of the wrapper he'd torn with his teeth and grinned wickedly down at Total. Digging a heavy paw into what was left of the package, the Eraser stabbed a piece of beef jerky with two fiendishly curved claws. The beast flipped it casually into the deadly maw of his mouth, exposing dozens of pointed yellow teeth, and snapped his jaws shut in a sudden motion that made Total jump yet again.

"We've gone too long without fresh meat, little pooch," the Eraser said, his voice angelically sweet. "It'll take more than a few slices of dried cow to satisfy us."

"Who are you?" Total asked meekly, wishing he had a snappy comeback.

"Does it matter, runt?" the Eraser replied, clearly knowing the Scottie could talk, "After all, I'm only one of many, just like the Flyboys. Actually, I'm surprised you don't recognize me. Max would."

Then something clicked in Total's mind; a shaken offhand remark from Max about the Flock's last day of school in D.C. "You're Sam."

"Very good, you get a gold star. But, as I've said before, I'm hungry, and you'd only be an appetizer. So, pooch, you'd better find us some food before we decide to take what we can get," Sam said, his voice suggesting warmth and caring, his words suggesting otherwise.

"Eat him!" Total cried, nodding toward Fang.

Sam's wolfish features darkened. "As much as I'd like to, someone has plans for these… though it would narrow down the competition." The last seven words were muttered as an afterthought, one Sam didn't seem to realize he'd spoken aloud.

"Nudge," Total breathed with relieved inspiration. "Miles back, there's a dead African American girl in the forest. You can eat her." He gave the Eraser vague directions, fighting back nausea as he realized how her corpse would be desecrated. He'd _known_ Nudge.

But now it was too late. Even after the Erasers had flown away and he'd woken up Max for watch, imagined images of the Erasers' frenzied feeding flooded his mind.


	13. Feeding

**The Claimer of Dissing: I don't own Maximum Ride. I guess you could say I'm anti-bird-kid-slavery that way.**

**The Official Word of the Author: You probably don't want to read this chapter. As in, _I_ don't want to read this chapter (so I've decided not to, thanks). It's kinda gross. This is where the Erasers eat Nudge. I've already figured out from your reviews that you probably don't want to read this. That's okay with me. Nothing important happens in this chapter. It was going to be part of the last chapter, but I wanted your reactions first, and I wanted to be able to warn you. (Hence why this and the last chapter are so short.)**

**Anyways, because I'm such a wonderful person, I'm going to be moving on with the plot again. And I'll put in more comic relief, probably.**

She was disgusting, even to an Eraser. Sam forced himself to look at the decaying corpse, snarling at the vulture pecking delicately at her remaining eye. The bird shrieked in alarm and flapped into the air, ugly gray head illuminated by the half moon.

Another Eraser landed hard behind him, already rushing for the meat. In mere moments, his whole crew had crowded around, a writhing mob of flashing teeth and claws. As furious as his growling stomach, Sam thrust his claws into one Eraser's back and flung the half-animal behind him. He tore another of the monsters off, and the rest slowly calmed and backed away. They pressed their ears back guiltily, cowered in convincing shame, and tucked their stumpy tails in as much as possible. Each one recognized the alpha male with fearful respect, as their lupine DNA told them to.

The dead girl was mauled beyond recognition, chunks of raw flesh bitten off by slavering jaws. Sam stepped closer hungrily, but a pesky word drifted across his mind and caused him to hesitate: _unsanitary_. He had no idea what it meant; it was just another phrase he thought he used to know. It was like when he crossed a body of water and found himself thinking, _this would be a good place for kayaking._

The Eraser ignored the word unsanitary, and tore her mostly unchewed left arm away from the rest of the body. He held it above his head by the fingertips and neatly trimmed nails and let the cold blood drain into his open mouth. Eyes shut as he enjoyed the sweet liquid, the only food besides a slice of beefy jerky he'd had in days, he let the flow taper to a light, spattering drizzle before motioning for the others to feed on the remaining meat.

It tasted so _good_, even in its current festering state. Sam devoured it in seconds, leaving him whimpering in regret when he found himself licking bone. The moonlight reflected off the hard bone, and Sam gnawed at it wishing for more. He turned back to the others, but found that they, too, had wolfed down almost every strip of meat he'd left them. A few licked their paws, and some stared jealously at an Eraser chewing greedily on what looked like an intestine.

Life was good for Erasers, tonight.

**A/N: Yeah, you can still review if you didn't read it. You can review my author's notes.**


	14. WORLD DOMINATION

**Disclaimer: I do not own M. Ride and company or the quote "You weigh a freakin' ton."**

**A/N: I've been feeling very frustrated lately; kinda been wondering why people review stories that are clearly not good at all and love them, but don't even spare decent (though not anywhere near perfect) stories like mine a second glance. Yeah, you could say I'm a little jealous.**

**And I posted the last chapter only so sick/demented/insane/all-around-disturbing people like myself could read it.**

The sky looked so far away this morning; the clouds like something out of a painting. They were perfectly frozen in place, like whipped cream in the heavens. All that was missing was angel darting across the horizon.

Fang allowed himself a small smile and smoothly lifted himself into space. He and his black wings would have to do.

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Max plummeted. She shouted with the exhilarating fear, knowing she had it better than any roller coaster addict would dream. There was nothing quite like freefalling; seeing the inevitable end and then cheating death out of one more bird kid.

After waiting as long as she could without cruelly smashing into a tree that had looked like leafless broccoli only moments before, she sped almost straight up, calling on all of her superhuman speed. The strain was incredible; laughing in the face of gravity, and she simply let herself fall. She closed her eyes, daring herself to guess at when she needed to pull up.

The teen shivered as she fell through a wet cloud. She sternly told herself to quit being such a baby and be brave enough to fall as long as she could. Then she felt the first of the branches and realized how stupid she'd been. But before she could even remember to open her wings, those wiry arms were around her, like they always were.

"Max, you stubborn idiot, please tell me you weren't trying to do Phoenix's job for him," Fang said heavily.

Her eyes flew open. "I had everything under control, thank you very much."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Plowing into trees is under control?"

Max glared at him for a full minute.

"You know those things on your back?" Fang said abruptly. "Use them. You weigh a freakin' _ton_."

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"What is 'kissing'?" Omega asked, looking down at Angel.

She stared at him in surprise; automatically probing his mind to make sure it wasn't some kind of joke. His thoughts were completely innocent. Boring, but innocent.

"It's hard to explain…" Angel said, hoping that he would go away and stop asking questions.

Annoyingly, Omega stood waiting for her to continue.

Sighing, she went on, "Fine, I'll get someone to demonstrate." She reached out with her power, and, out of pity for her fellow Flock members, squirmed her way into Tareyn's mind. Apparently Angel's target was still half asleep, but she would do.

The six year-old subtly changed the course of Tareyn's thoughts, making the older girl want to stand up. The next part was harder. Angel could easily force her to kiss someone, but it would be clumsier than if she only made Tareyn want to kiss someone.

Then, inspiration struck her, and Angel moved into Max's mind. She sifted through various memories, trying not to go too far into them, searching for that day on the beach. Angel made a face, thinking about how slimy it all was, but returned to the task at hand. The memory wasn't difficult to find, and Angel copied Max's emotions and substituted them into Tareyn with a few small tweaks as effortlessly as she would copy and paste something on a computer.

"What are you doing?" Omega asked, clearly wondering why Angel was staring off into space.

"Just watch Tareyn."

Tareyn's thoughts were confused –part of her recognized that what she was doing made no sense- but she still followed her newfound, overpowering emotions. Before she could break through Angel's haze, she kissed Phoenix, who promptly woke up and shouted at her.

"Eew," Omega said.

"Yeah," Angel agreed.

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"_Max, get to a television and turn on the news."_

She frowned, noticing that he was worried instead of his usual cryptic. _Jeb?_

But he was already gone.

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"Everybody out," Max ordered, and everyone but a helpless Phoenix obeyed. "There's something important going on somewhere out there, and we need to find a T.V. and find out what it is. Check news channels."

"If we split up, it won't take as long," Iggy volunteered.

Max nodded. "Get in pairs."

Chaos ensued.

Regretfully, Max turned to Fang, knowing he meant to go with her. "Can you stay here and guard Phoenix?"

Something unidentifiable flashed in his eyes –maybe disappointment or anger, fear or devotion- but he nodded and fluidly stepped into the van, shutting the door firmly behind him.

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Mara and Tareyn had never liked each other, but they accepted their temporary partnership. They broke into a suburban house thoughtlessly, turning on a T.V. in an immaculate living room. After minutes of frustrating attempts to get the cable box to work, they finally switched it to a news station.

Panicked reporters rushed through scenes of devastation; bloody streets, smoking buildings; each dutifully informing the public of the deaths of dozens of important officials. Presidents, prime ministers, ambassadors, dictators –all dead. Tareyn's face paled and she rushed out of the room, leaving a grim-faced Mara staring at the screen.

She found a phone in a tidy bedroom, located on a pristine white nightstand by a carefully made bed, and dialed a number she'd had memorized for years. Tareyn restlessly paced across the tan carpet as she listened to the dial tones, a trail of muddy footprints appearing behind her. Finally, someone on the other end picked up their own phone.

"Hello?" the voice said, distorted by static but undeniably tired.

She stopped in her literal tracks. "Ralph?"

"Is that you, Tareyn? Man, it's good to hear your voice. We thought you were dead, disappearing like that. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Tareyn answered dismissively. "What's going on? This wasn't supposed to happen for another two and a half weeks."

"I know, Tare," Ralph sighed. "But the thing is: There's no more Third Faction. Itex found out what we were planning and used it for their own ends."

Tareyn swore into the receiver. "How?"

"You know those werewolf things? Apparently they come in size small. Hundreds of 'em snuck in through the air vents."

She froze, dropping the phone. It fell towards the floor, but hung spinning in midair by its old-fashioned curled cord. How could she have missed? There'd been an Eraser among them ever since they'd gone after Phoenix.

Indistinct noises came from the receiver, and she hastily swooped down to pick it up. "I have to go," she said dazedly, overriding his protests, and hung up the phone.

Tareyn ran out of the room, throwing open the front door without hesitation. She was ready to bolt outside when she felt the sudden vise-like grip on her arm. Mara was right behind her, expression even more grim than it had been when she was watching the news.

"Did you really think I didn't know about the Third Faction?"

Tareyn had opened her mouth to demand release, but dread settled in her stomach at Mara's words. "How?"

"C'mon, kid," Mara said impatiently, "you left me alone in that place too long for me not to do a little exploring. I've known all this time."

"You don't understand, Mara, Vincent-"

"I don't care about Vincent, kid. I came to help Phoenix, not you, and I'm not going to let the next part of your plan succeed."

"It'll be better this way, Mara. We're people, not experiments. We only wanted to take out those people so that mutants would have a chance," Tareyn found herself insisting.

Mara smiled humorlessly. "But you don't believe that, do you? You didn't want to have to kill just to survive. Besides, something went wrong, didn't it?"

Tareyn hesitated, but Mara's grip tightened as if to remind her she didn't have a choice. "Yeah. The right leaders weren't killed. Itex found out."

Finally, Mara's hold slackened. "Great. Now a bunch of crazed whitecoats rule the world."

**A/N: You probably won't get another update for about a week. I've got a 20 page research paper due Friday, and I've written three pages of it. And then next week is midterms.**


	15. Discovery

**A/N: This chapter isn't the best.**

"How do you work this thing?!" Max exclaimed in frustration, inadvertently punching a hole in the T.V. screen.

Omega glanced over his shoulder nervously. Sure enough, two Circuit City employees clad in their typical red shirts were standing about ten feet behind them, gaping at the girl who'd just wrecked a two thousand dollar machine. "Next store."

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"I know, Total," Angel coaxed. "But dogs aren't allowed in here. We need you and Vincent to stay here and keep a look out."

"Why look out? Why not look in?" Whiskers asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Fine," Total sulked watching enviously as Angel and Whiskers entered the wayside electronics store. If he could only transform, he could be the one entering stores.

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"Capri sun," Iggy muttered to a passing employee, not bothering to slow down. He and the Gasman kept their eyes ahead and rounded a corner, watching the worker start from the corners of their eyes.

"I think it spread," Iggy mused as the employee ran after them, switching easily into the characteristics of Admiral Arcane.

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"We're nothing alike," Fang said suddenly, breaking the van's silence.

Phoenix flopped his head over to gaze in irritation at him. "Haven't we already had that discussion? Did you spend all of yesterday making a list or something?"

"I'm not a murderer."

"That seems overtly familiar, too. I doubt that you've never killed anyone. In fact, I _know_ you've killed before, 'cause I'm just amazing like that."

"I've killed," Fang said shortly, blending effortlessly into the shadows cast by the cracked, leather-encased seats. "Not murdered."

"But you want to," Phoenix countered triumphantly, stretching out across the trunk luxuriously.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Fang asked, and then reminded himself that Phoenix _was_, after all, insane.

"Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't snap my neck right here and now if she hadn't asked you not to?"

"It wouldn't be in cold blood."

"Stop sounding reasonable. We're talking about killing each other. Besides, you don't seem like a heated fury kind of person. No matter how angry you are, your heart will still beat slowly and purposefully… until I snuff it out."

"You son of a bitch. Never forget this: someday I'll look you in the eye and shoot you the way you shot my sister; and it'll be the best thing I've ever done."

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"Max, you really need to stop doing that," Omega commented, looking warily at the mechanical guts of yet another television set. "That's the fifth one."

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"Gazzy, you're eight years old. You're not supposed to know that word yet."

The Gasman looked sheepishly at his blind brother. "Sorry."

"S'fine," Iggy sighed. "Just don't let Max hear you… and hurry up and tell me what's going on."

"Sorry."

Iggy rolled his eyes and Gazzy took the hint and squinted at the T.V. screen. The subtitles were on, but the blocky letters were scrolling by fast enough to make them hard to read. "Umm…. Something about er-anne…"

"Iran?"

"Yeah, that… Okay, that was a good one. Perfect flame color; just enough windows blown out."

"Gazzy! Focus!"

"Sorry," he said automatically, but the on-screen explosion was already over.

"Stop _saying_ that and tell me something useful!"

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"I think it's my turn," Omega said firmly, blocking Max's path to her newest electronical victim.

She stood there fuming, contemplating throwing a sharp punch between his flat gray eyes. However, being the gracious mutant freak she was, she allowed him to turn to the television set unharmed.

Omega studied it for several long, silent moments in that strange way of his: eager naïveté with underlying tones of cold precision that even he not have been aware of.

Max crossed her arms impatiently and leaned most of her weight on one foot, tapping the other against the ground. Rolling her eyes as Omega pressed the power button in a stroke of light bulb-worthy inspiration; she wished he would just let her try. There was no _way_ Soulless Superman would be able to find the right channel, not when he'd spent most of his life locked in Itex's German fortress of doom.

So, all in all, Max was considerably less happy than she could have been when a familiar news station's logo flashed up on the screen.

Still, she watched the reports of global assassination without glaring at Omega, quite possibly because she was too ticked off that Jeb would want her to save the world again. Who would he get to take care of that sort of thing when the Flock retired?

Images of a cranky, grandfatherly Fang whacking an Eraser with a cane floated amusingly through her mind. She could picture him insisting his overgrown bangs still worked even though his hair was gray perfectly; could hear him cursing his creaking joints and her hearing aide as he tried to sneak up on her. Getting old had the potential for being interesting, she decided. Assuming they lived that long.

An elbow in the side from Omega brought her back to reality. Sighing and wondering when the world would finally leave her alone, she watched the wanted announcement, growing angrier with each word. This time it was a cooperative television she drove her fist through.

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It really wasn't hard. The unshaven man behind the downtrodden counter turned the television on as if it had been his idea all along. Angel watched the news with growing nausea; the store's other patrons soon shuffling over to gaze dumbstruck at the news as well. The six year-old turned to leave the store, hoping that this was news that Jeb had warned them about. She didn't want to think about what could possibly be worse.

"Max! Fang! Ig-eee!" Whiskers declared happily from behind her. She spun around, and then stopped cold and breathless at what she saw.

The screen was flooded with mug shot-like images of a grimy-looking Flock, wings cleverly hidden. The fact that their pictures were on display for millions to see was bad enough, but it was the words drifting from the speakers that were the real problem.

"These are the main suspects for the assassination of President Danning. Young as they look, the F.B.I. warns that they are part of an extremist terrorist cell, and that the authorities should be contacted immediately upon the sighting of any of the six." The words felt like a death warrant to Angel.

"That's her!" one of the customers, ugly man in a plaid shirt, pointed out, as if he was hoping to be promoted from Lieutenant to Captain obvious.

Then the cashier pulled out a silvery baseball bat from behind the counter. Within seconds Angel was surrounded by suddenly patriotic customers who'd apparently decided to skip the whole "calling the police" step.

"Guys, she's just a kid," someone in the background said reasonably, reminding Angel of Mr. Lazzara from that school in good ol' Virginia.

No one seemed interested in what he had to say. Angel took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay as calm as Fang, and reached out to touch their minds. Everyone felt so _angry_, so bloodthirsty, that she wanted to break off the contact. Holding on firmly, eyes shut against the strain, she forced them all to take a step back. Giving the simple command was like being punched in the stomach by steel dinosaur. Humans were a lot harder to control than Erasers.

Satisfyingly, they were too puzzled to do anything for a few moments. Once they shook it off, however, they moved in again. Growing increasingly desperate, she gave another try, this time not stopping even as the pressure mounted. It hurt more than a week in the School, but Angel hung on, knowing that if she gave up she'd be dead anyway.

The last things she saw before she blacked out were Whiskers catching her and Michael Lazzara stopping an aluminum baseball bat from bashing her skull in.

**A/N: Recently, I've been thinking about this fic's ending, and what I'll do afterward. Maybe a full-blown parody. That would be fun. Anyways, on that cheerful note, go ahead and review.**


	16. Samson

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. I got sick. -sneezes and gulps down water to soothe sore throat-**

**Now I'm back, with a special chapter I hadn't actually planned 'til I wrote it. A little morbid in the third scene, but I like this one. **

**Note: Michael Lazzara is a teacher from the school the Flock attended in Virginia. Max liked him, and I like messing around with minor characters, so now he's in this story.**

-Right Before Chapter Fourteen, 'Cause That's the Way the Author Wants It-

The phone wouldn't stop ringing. F.B.I. Agent Anne Walker snatched it up and pounded the talk button.

"What do you want?" she snapped, head throbbing with a murderous migraine.

"Someone sounds stressed," her caller said, all but laughing.

"Either tell me why you're calling or go play with your dead company, Maxwell." She didn't have the time or patience to deal with Itex's con man of a Director. The President had just been assassinated; the F.B.I. was plenty busy.

"I need you to identify the assassins for me."

"Maxwell, if we knew who did it, so would you."

"Not _that_ kind of identify. I need you to pin it on Batchelder's merry mischief makers," Maxwell specified.

Anne contemplated hanging up, but if news of her former job for Itex reached anyone… "Why?"

"Don't question me. Just do it."

"You sound like a bad shoe ad."

The line went dead, and Anne sighed. She didn't have a choice. Still, she hesitated. Once upon a time, she'd lived under the same roof as those kids –or experiments, as she'd thought of them.

Anne dialed Jeb Batchelder's number. The least she could do was warn them before they became wanted criminals.

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-After the Last Chapter (Back to Normal, That Is)-

"President Samson, what I'm about to tell you will change everything."

Jared Samson glanced up over the top rim of his reading glasses, the corners of his mouth turning up almost imperceptibly. "I doubt that. Who let you in here?" The suddenly instated president of the United States was a good six feet tall, his brown hair flecked through with dabs of gray. He was fit, if not athletic, and this breach of security did not seem to worry him.

"You know how these things work, _sir_." The title was too emphasized for Samson's taste, almost mocking. "The Oval Office is not inaccessible."

Slight amusement turning cold, Samson studied the man at his door for the first time. The President realized subconsciously that he could beat the intruder in a fair fight, but he knew from hard experience that most fights in politics were dirty. The intruder could be called scrawny, and his slimy aura had the dog at the side of Samson's desk growling softly.

"Quiet, Bear," Samson said absently, scratching the brown retriever between the ears before pushing his chair back and standing up. The dog whined once, but then obediently fell silent.

The man at the door grinned. "Samson, with the strength of a bear… But tell me, what happens when your hair is cut?"

The analogy was not last on the President. "Is that a threat?" He said the words mildly, but danger flashed behind the lenses of his glasses.

In a style that would have been infuriating for someone with lesser self control, the intruder's grin grew wider. "I'm already holding the scissors."

Samson raised his eyebrows a fraction of a centimeter, and silence fell. By his side, Bear's growling resumed.

"I'd like you to meet someone," the intruder said conversationally, once it had become plain that Samson did not intend to reply. He gestured for an out-of-sight individual to step into the Oval Office.

A dark skinned child in ragged clothing walked in expressionlessly. Her eyes were dull, lifeless until she flinched when Bear came too close to lick her hand. Countless cuts and bruises covered her skin, speaking of years of endless abuse.

"What have you done to her?" Samson demanded, reminded forcefully of his similarly aged son. Despite his calm façade, anger had slipped into his voice.

The man said nothing; simply pulled a hidden pistol out from his shabby jacket and shot the girl in the back of the head. A cylindrical apparatus hushed the sound to a small _whuff_, attracting no attention from any Secret Service agents that might have been around. The girl's face registered the tiniest ounce of shock as the bullet hit, but she died instantly and with apparent relief, misery ended for all time. She fell face forward in a splay of limbs, and Samson gazed with relative disbelief the fawn colored pair of wings sprouting from her back as naturally as blood sprouted from the back of her head.

"She was eleven," the intruder said, with the same amount of regret he would give the cow that became his steak, "About the same age as another child around here."

_Kyle._ "You'll never touch my son," Samson growled.

"Oh, it's too late for that." The man peered at the watch on his left wrist, casually stowing away his pistol. "She left for a German vacation two hours ago. I'm afraid I'm not sure when she'll be coming back."

"What do you want?" Samson hated asking it; hated playing right into this man's hands.

"Nothing for now. But I'll keep in touch." The intruder stepped carelessly over the girl's body and left.

Moments behind him, a smaller fellow came in and collected the corpse.

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-Still on Normal Timeline-

Bostian peeked timidly at his companion. The six year-old gave him an icy stare, and he turned away as quickly as he could manage. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Phoenix's relentless teasing told him to man up; reminded him that she was a _kid_.

"Coward," the girl said flatly, tossing her golden hair over one shoulder.

"Stay out of my h-head," Bostian protested, the stutter appearing as she rested her frozen blue eyes on his own nervous green.

"Wasn't I brought along so I could mess with minds?" she asked sweetly, flashing an innocent smile at a security guard who promptly opened a door they shouldn't have known existed.

"Not mine!"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Bostian and his disrespectful colleague walked on, inside one of the most secure buildings in the world. Numerous government officials and employees tried to stop them, some even went as far as to call for help, but they all continued along on their business with pleasant, brainless smiles plastered to their faces.

Soon they reached a strangely strong, well-locked door. With a simple gesture, it swung open, revealing a mahogany desk with an elderly politician behind it.

"Hello, sir," the girl said, her compelling voice like honey, "You're going to do exactly as I tell you…"

**A/N: One word before you decide I've lost it: Clones. Yeah, I'm special like that. You didn't really think I'd resort to making Angel evil did you? Besides, she's busy moping 'cause I didn't resolve her cliffhanger yet. (You wouldn't want to hear what Tareyn and Mara and Vincent think. Not to mention Ralph; he must hate me, 'cause he doesn't even really qualify as a minor character.)**

**All character motives will make sense, in time. If you review. PRESS THE BLUE BUTTON THAT SAYS GO AND TYPE STUFF IN THE BOXES.**


	17. Parking Lot

"It showed our pictures, didn't it?" Iggy sighed.

"Yeah."

"So people we've never met are going to try to kill us now?"

Gazzy frowned. Although the Wal-Mart was filled with shoppers staring stupidly at the small screen, none of them seemed that interested in committing homicide. "Actually, no."

"He was a lousy president anyway," one shopper said loudly.

"Can you believe he vetoed that immigration bill?" another asked rhetorically.

"How'd that moron even get elected? _I_ sure didn't vote for him."

"Remember when he completely lost it and took all the money for national parks and tried to build a four-star hotel for the homeless?"

"I'm surprised he wasn't impeached."

Gazzy and Iggy stood by the T.V.; dumbfounded. How in the world had they managed to end up in the least patriotic store in the U.S.? Had these citizens no pride in their late president?

"Hey, aren't those two supposed to be the assassins that did it?" someone called, pointing to Iggy and the Gasman.

"Ask them if they'd like to go get a drink."

"Congratulate them on a job well done."

"On second thought, they're probably minors. Forget it; I'm not violating my parole again."

"I always thought that whole 'You-must-be-twenty-one-or-older-to-drink' law was stupid, too."

Gazzy and Iggy fled, hoping to keep their sanity intact.

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"Did you see me take down that cashier?" Omega asked excitedly. "I was like, POW, and he was like, 'Oh, the pain!', and I was like, 'TAKE THAT EVIL BEST BUY MAN!', and he, like, like, like, _collapsed_." He took a breath and looked at Max expectantly.

"I saw," she confirmed, rolling her eyes.

"What about that old lady with the iPod?"

"You beat up an old lady with an iPod?" Max asked, aghast.

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"Where are you, Max?" Fang muttered as he paced along the length of the van, apparently unaware that he had spoken aloud.

Scowling and wishing he could get a hand free of the duct tape to take care of that itch on his knee, Phoenix didn't particularly feel like telling him. It had taken long enough to wake from their last conversation. Still, it was more entertaining than just sitting there watching the other teen play a convincing caged tiger.

"Yo, you with the hair," Phoenix called. "Your girlfriend will come back with Omega when she feels like it."

"Bit below your usual level of taunting, murderer."

Phoenix almost winced. The girlfriend jibe _was_ pathetic. "But that was right up there with the rest of yours. Don't you ever get tired of calling me a murderer? Or is your vocabulary really that limited?"

Halting abruptly, Fang looked over his shoulder at Phoenix. "I could try butcher."

Before Phoenix could fire back a retort, Fang slammed the van's sliding door shut. He had to have at least _something_, even if it was only a physical barrier, separating him from Phoenix.

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"Where did we park?" Iggy asked Gazzy blankly.

Realizing suddenly that he, too, was clueless, Gazzy stopped walking. He was not at all surprised that Iggy did the same with the cessation of his footsteps, and scanned the parking lot in search of their van.

"What color was it, again?" he asked, biting his lower lip.

Iggy glared in his general direction. "I don't know; mostly because no one ever bothered to tell me."

The eight year-old boy grimaced. "Right. Sorry." He looked around again, and his eyes fell on a dark figure pacing beside a van.

"Hey, Ig, I think it's white."

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Fang was losing control. There was _nothing_ more important than control; besides his family. He didn't even want to _think_ about how much he could hurt them if he wasn't careful. Squeezing his eyes shut, Fang moved a hand to his face and took a deep breath, putting an end to his pacing as he did so.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and spun around, grabbing the first intruder by the throat and slamming him into the side of the van.

"Death grip much?" Iggy choked out, his feet dangling an inch off of the ground.

Fang forced his fingers away from Iggy's neck, gently setting him back on the asphalt. "Sorry," he said, avoiding Gazzy's wide-eyed stare.

"Yeah, I'd hope you were. Anyways, Max was right, it _is_ bad."

"I'll say," said Max's voice, and Fang managed to turn around without jumping.

"Hey, Fang," she greeted, as if just realizing he was there, before continuing. "So, pretty much the whole world's leaders and other important people-"

"Like Tom Cruise?" Gazzy added eagerly.

"Uh, more like politic-y people, Gazzers. Anyways, all those politic-y people, like presidents and prime whatchamacallems and stuff, were assassinated, and the F.B.I.'s decided to pin it on us," Max finished.

"That sucks. Where's Angel?"

Iggy, the Gasman, and Max all stared at Fang as the words left his mouth. Omega, standing directly behind Max, peered around for the youngest member of the Flock.

"Does _nothing_ shake you?" Iggy asked incredulously. "What if I had told you that World War III was starting? Would you have said, 'That sucks, pass the salt?'"

"We never have salt," Gazzy sighed, but was largely ignored.

"Look, Ig, we've got bigger things to worry about than the F.B.I.-"

"_I_ thought the F.B.I. was big," Max muttered.

"-Itex has already thrown Phoenix at us, who knows what'll happen next? More importantly, who knows what'll happen if any of us stays alone for too long? We need to find Angel," Fang said impatiently.

"Found her!" Omega crowed, with the air of someone winning a championship soccer game.

The assembled Flock members looked in the direction he was pointing. At the edge of their raptor-reminiscent vision, two figures silhouetted by the mid-afternoon sun grew gradually bigger. Soon, Fang could make out Whiskers, running in a manner that almost made it seem like he was hopping, an unrecognizable shape in his arms, and a vaguely familiar man running beside him, just barely keeping up.

"What's that Whiskers's carrying?" Gazzy asked with a frown, his voice trailing off as he realized just what it was.

"Angel," Max breathed, and sprinted off before anyone could slip another word in.

"Max," Fang growled in disapproval as she whipped out her wings and used her superhuman flying speed to reach the others. Didn't she know better than showing her wings in a crowded parking lot? Still, worry overrode his anger, and he was by her side, kneeling next to Angel, as fast as his wings could carry him.


	18. Memories

**A/N: So... This is chapter 18... But I'm quite sure if it will make sense grammatically to anyone. It's Angel's thoughts, if you're wondering, and I was kinda aiming for a rushed, frantic feeling. Not really my usual thinly masked comedy. The /last/ chapter was supposed to be the funny one.**

_There were so many…_

Thousands of thoughts, memories, and emotions flowed through her; sometimes a clip of a beautiful morning, but usually a tearful segment from someone she couldn't identify.

_Being cramped in a dog crate; anger sprouting from her –or was she female?- as surely as the jet black wings sprouting from his back. He could see Her, and the capital seemed to fit, across an aisle of white linoleum, bruised and bleeding. He rammed himself into the crate's bars, howling for them to _dare_ to hurt him, because he would protect Her no matter the cost._

Angel.

_Staring down at the lifeless body of a half-human, half-wolf creature; knowing with disbelief that she had just killed one of her worst –and most innocent- enemies. She looked up to see the man whose respect had once meant everything to her tell her what she had done, who she had murdered: enemy, child, brother._

Angel.

_Standing in a room with other deformed part-humans, most laughing at him. He cried, wondering why he had been born so stupid._

Angel, wake up.

_Looking down at the grave of his dead father; cursing the sun for shining so brightly when, inside, he was rain. How could this have happened? Why couldn't he have saved him?_

Angel, my baby.

_Blood running down his face, one eye swollen shut; the woman who called herself his mother watching. "You have to be strong," the woman said coldly, and left him alone; alone in the endless dark._

Don't die, Angel!

_His was burning; his shoulders felt like he'd been slammed into a brick wall by an overgrown Eraser. He looked over his shoulder, and saw, through tear-blurred eyes, feathers like the infinite night of his steel-walled room, with the single yellow light bulb flickering in one corner. Why did it hurt so much?_

Ange…

_Opening his eyes; screaming at the top of his lungs; fighting the anesthetic desperately. They were going to do it; oh, God, his eyes! He thrashed madly, hoping somehow to free himself from the restraints that held him to the cold operating table. A needle stabbed into his arm, and his sight began to fade for the last time._

Distantly, she heard sobbing, but did it really matter anymore?

_Watching helplessly; struggling to stand up, to run to his sister. He couldn't let them have her; she was his SISTER! Raw emotional agony flooded through him, because he had failed her, and now she would suffer like never before._

Silence; sweet silence.

_Transforming; becoming what he had sworn to never be again against his will. And then…betrayal._

A moment's relief passed, and then she was launched into the next memory.

_Looking into those obsessed eyes; knowing the boy must be insane. He was choking, dying, and so he surrendered. The boy rushed away, but he had failed his masters, and he would pay._

Then it all stared again, everything at the same time, and she wanted to scream, but didn't know if she even had a body. It hurt so much; how could they –how could she- stand the pain? Who _was _she?

"ANGEL!"

She awakened with a gasp, the first breath she'd taken in far too long. She was… Angel.

**A/N: Heh. I went through one of the worst memories of each character located in the parking lot at this point. Kudos to anyone who can figure out which is which.**

**What I've been up to since my last chapter with an Author's Note:**

**-I wrote a cute little Harry Potter oneshot. I think you'd like it, Flufferbunny.**

**-I wrote another oneshot, this one about Iggy. Yeah, so I only put in random Fax at the end so that people would read it, so what?**

**-I allowed anonymous reviews. Actually, I was under the impression that I already was, so, sorry, hypothetical reviewers. Feel free to review and call yourselves "Theoretical Theo", because I'm guessing that at least one of you exists.**


	19. Car Accident

**A/N: This chapter seems short. And not as good as most, but it needed to be written to advance the plot. (That's right; I do have a plot. Or at least half of one. The cute half. I'll figure out the rest soon.)**

"…is an Eraser," Tareyn finished. "That enough explaining for you? Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to hurry up and tell everyone else!"

Mara seemed completely nonplussed by Tareyn's frustration. "We'll have to run. There might not be much time left."

And so they ran. On and on, past suburban house after suburban house, they ran, as only the genetically altered can. Try to catch up as she might, Tareyn always remained a yard behind a steely, focused Mara.

The miles they had jogged to reach the house they had broken into passed by steadily. With a mile to go, Mara sprinted across a four-way intersection. Barely hesitating, Tareyn dashed after her.

She'd always thought that time would slow down when she died. Yet, when the SUV hit her at full speed, she was flying through the air before she even realized what had happened or felt the pain of the impact. Tareyn hit the ground hard, back first, and only had time to yelp before her head hit the curb.

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"How is she?" Fang asked softly, not wanting to wake the sleeping girl Max rocked in her arms.

"She'll be okay," Max replied from inside the car, not looking at him. "She's scared more than anything, and… I was, too."

Fang slid into the car seat beside her. "Yeah?"

Max bit her lip, and for the first time Fang noticed she was trembling. "Fang," she choked out, "she wasn't breathing."

He drew her close, and the first of her tears fell on his shirt. "I know, Max, I know." He waited, holding her gently until she pulled away with a sniffle.

"I-I c-couldn't let her die, too," Max said hopelessly. "Not Angel; not anyone."

She fell back into his arms.

"You can't always save them all, Max," Fang murmured into her hair. "But you can try."

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Mara halted abruptly as the squeal of tires coming to a fast stop filled her ears. She spun around with growl, and let all expression slide off her face when she fully took in the situation.

Tareyn was sprawled at the edge of the road about twenty feet away; one arm twisted at an impossible angle. Red leaked slowly down the curb where her head rested, and Mara winced. There was always the chance that the girl's brain hadn't been ground into a pulp, but… it still looked painful.

The car that had hit her, an imposing black SUV, had its windows tinted dark, giving Mara no clue as to how many were inside. From the little that Mara had heard of the world outside of Itex, black SUVs were bad news. She contemplated running, but if there was a chance Tareyn was still alive… she owed the girl. It wouldn't be right to run off like a coward now.

The driver's door opened, and the driver stepped out, looking barely old enough to have a license. He had healthy, thick (if somewhat overgrown) brown hair. Resting on face, as that was (in most cases Mara had observed; Itex had performed some very strange experiments in her time) that was where eyes usually were, were his dark eyes, filled with a smooth madness that instantly made him lose any appeal. Likewise, Mara wasn't particularly happy to see the gun in his hands rise to point at her.

"Get in the car," he ordered, and Mara was surprised to find he lacked the musical tones of most Erasers.

She weighed her options: run and get shot; point-blank refuse and get shot; or obey and probably still get shot sooner or later. Not the best odds, but if they had been she wouldn't have bothered calculating them.

Mara got in the car.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Listen up," Max called, standing on the hood of the van, hands cupped around her mouth. "We're flying to California."

"What, like on a plane?" Mr. Lazzara asked, but his voice trailed off when he remembered what he had just seen.

_Oh, yeah, those big feathery appendages sticking out of our backs,_ Max thought.

"Not exactly," she said dryly, "but you, Omega, Whiskers, and Tareyn and Mara, wherever those two are, won't be coming with us."

Immediate chaos ensued. Angel protested that she wanted Whiskers to come, even playing the he-saved-my-life guilt card; Mr. Lazzara was plainly thinking that they needed to bring along a responsible adult; a cloud of dark grey smoke floated from where Iggy and the Gasman sat in a tangle of wires; and Omega added they couldn't leave him behind. Max was just glad he wasn't confessing his undying love for her; because next time she would see how immortal it really was.

"Shut up!" Max yelled, and Angel looked around guiltily from where she'd been arguing with an unmovable Fang. "Look, no one without wings is coming, because they can't _fly_, and that's how it's going to be!"

They shut up and stared up and her with mostly blank expressions.

"Good." Max turned to Fang. "Get Phoenix. We're heading out now."

**A/N: La di da, it's really, really late. Fun. Anyways, here's the usual summary of what I've been up to:**

**1. When the Sun Stopped Shining. Some of you guys have already read this one, but for those of you who haven't, check it out. Yay for Iggy angst. Oh, and it did get less reviews than Learning to Tie. The false Fax worked for Learning to Tie, if you were wondering.**

**2. Harry's Armchair. As I'm writing this, it has five hits and no reviews. Oh, well. It's a random Harry Potter humor fic.**

So, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review.

Signed, your vaguely insane neighborhood Atkid.


	20. Atkid's Favorite Chapter Of Doom

**A/N: I love this chapter.**

Max sighed. The Flock still wasn't happy about leaving the others behind, and having to take Phoenix with them on top of it. To make it up to them, she decided to let them stay at a hotel for the night.

The Flock, plus Phoenix (who was heavily guarded by a scowling Fang and an uncharacteristically grim Iggy), landed behind the Holiday Inn. They walked into the hotel, trying to look vaguely innocent. Max asked for several rooms, and was promptly denied them, as she was fourteen and had no ID to speak of.

Yet, the Flock was just so spiffy that they broke into the presidential suite and kicked Samson out. Who's bad now, Itex? Yeah, you heard us; we're awesome, oh yeah, PWN.

------DRAMATIC SCENE CHANGE------

"WHERE IS THE BOMB?!"

Mara stared at the short, puny human. "Jack, there is no bomb. And what are you doing here? This isn't the 24 fandom."

_The characters will not question Darth Atkid. Ever._

"Whatev," Mara said, rolling her eyes. Jack Bauer nodded his agreement.

_Is that disrespect? Are YOU disrespecting the _author

"Psh, yeah. What, are you stupid? Seriously, Atkid. This is _my_ part of the story. If I don't want Jack Bauer in it, Jack Bauer better not be in it," Mara said is a very _duh_ tone of voice. Jack stuck his tongue out at her, because he has such great insults like that.

_No. Bad character._

And Mara was smote.

-----DUH DUH DUN!------

Nudge was alive. Infuriated readers, missing her bland chatter and pointless filler material, had brought her back to life with the power of reviews. Now, she was more powerful and less intelligent than ever. (BONUS!!! Now she was fourteen so that she could engage in romantic pursuits with Iggy!!!)

"IM SO K3WL!!" she exclaimed.

_What? I killed you! And what kind of l337 is that?_

"o, its on" she said.

_8R1//G 17, N00B!_

Then there were l337 wars.

-----Scene change to give Atkid time to l337 duel Nudge------

Max skipped into the hotel room, because Max loves to skip, just like she loves ponies, and rainbows, and bunnies, and happy puppy dogs.

"Hello, Flock!" she said cheerfully. "Isn't the world such a happy place?"

_Y0U. 8(K 1// (HR(73R._

Max took a moment to translate. "You… back… in… char…act…death."

…_No, Max._

"What do I care?" Max snapped. "I'm going to save the world, and all you do is write fanfiction!"

_Shall I smite you?_

The story continued.

"Hello, Max!" Fang said, sticking his head out of a doorway leading to the miniature hotel room kitchen. "Want to make-"

"No, Fang, I will not make babies with you!" Max shrieked. "Seriously, Atkid, what is your problem?!"

_That's not where I was going with that…_

"I was going to say cookies," Fang replied slowly, unable to hear the italicized voice of the amazing Darth Atkid. He held out a bowl of cookie dough. "But that wo-"

Fang was smote by the author, in order to keep the fic's T rating. His spleen landed in the hotel pool.

The Flock mourned his death, killed Phoenix because they could, and then saved the world from Itex in order to wrap up any loose ends. Oh, and Omega and Whiskers lived happily ever after. Until they died, of course.

--------------------MEANWHILE, AT AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION------------------

Darth Atkid was transported into the story. OH, DISS.

Nudge gasped in shock. How could this be? How could Darth Atkid self-insert so blatantly?

"I can do anything," Darth Atkid boomed. "Including read your mind."

"o noe u dih-ent!" Nudge screeched.

"Smite," Atkid said. Nothing happened. Crickets chirped, and then were promptly sucked into a blackhole as punishment for their insolence. Yeah, that's right, no one disturbs the silence when Atkid doesn't want them to. You, reader, shut up. There's a dramatic silent scene going on, here. Did you see the crickets?

Nudge was laughing hysterically. "You shall never defeat me, puny writer! I spit on your shoelaces!"

Atkid fell to his/her/its knees. How could the author be defeated? Where were Mary Sue-like powers when you needed them?

Suddenly, a randomly hot person of the opposite gender showed up! "I will save the day!" the person said. The person was then smote, by Fang and Iggy. (Even though Fang had been smote earlier.)

"By Jove, I've got it!" Atkid said. "l337!

"$M173!!!!!!!shift!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!eleven!!!!1!!!!"

And Nudge was smote.

Darth Atkid won, and then commanded that the readers review.

The End.

**A/N: You might have guessed by now that this isn't actually a real chapter. Good job. Anyways, the real reason I posted this was to tell you that I'm going on vacation and won't be able to post the next chapter for about a week. I could have just posted something telling you that, but that wouldn't have been as fun. Or as interesting.**

**Oh, and I wrote an Eragon parody. Check it out, if you haven't already. **

**"For Pony,"**

**Darth "Genius" Atkid**

**(Okay, not really, but still, it's hard to deny the awesomeness. Or the egotisticalness.)**


	21. Clones and Rocket Launchers

**A/N: First of all, sorry about the wait. ****Now, on a completely different note, you may find this chapter plays more to the darker side of my writing style. Not by much, though, and only in parts. And it kind of reads like filler material...**

**Anyways, I love clones. In case you can't figure it out yourself, Britney is an Angel clone. Whoot.**

"Max, I need you to take care of the situation in Florida. The information's all on this PDA; password's 'gaping wounds,' not capitalized. It's a long flight, so you'd better get going," Maxwell said, handing her the PDA. He looked distinctly harried; a sure sign that taking over the world was proving more difficult than he'd expected.

Max took the PDA from his hand. She turned it on and was about to enter in the password when she hesitated. Did she really want to play as Itex's pawn?

"You know what, screw you," Max said. "I'm outta here."

"You don't want to do that, Max."

The clone snapped her gaze to the door. Threats, honeyed or not, didn't go down easily with her.

The girl by the door glared at Max, an unpleasant sneer ruining her deceptively innocent features. Max smirked maliciously. She knew how to deal with this failure.

The blonde girl's face filled with disgust.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded, looking as if she wanted to throw up. "How can you stand to fantasize about those kinds of things?"

"Stay out of my head," Max said, insolent smirk firmly in place. "It's a sick, sick place."

Maxwell threw up his hands and stalked out of the room. "Britney," he called from somewhere out of Max's sight, "could you deal with this? I need everything in Florida taken care of, and with Phoenix disappearing to God knows where, I don't have anyone else to send on these kinds of missions."

"I'd love to," the six year-old replied sweetly. "You know how Max is like a sister to me."

Max growled and dove for her. The younger clone sidestepped easily, and Max crashed to the floor.

Britney sighed and shook her head, golden ringlets bouncing. "You're just too predictable, Max."

"Predict this," Max retorted, pushed herself to her feet, and sprinted for the window.

Britney paled, already seeing Max's plan. Max grinned; there was no way the brat could stop her now.

Ten feet left.

Six to go. Max prepared to smash through the window, covering as much of her face with her hands as possible.

Suddenly, her feet abruptly stopped moving, and she tumbled face down to the floor. She struggled to stand up, to move her limbs, but they wouldn't obey her. Max looked up to glare at Britney, perfectly aware of who was responsible.

"You idiot," Britney hissed. "You know perfectly well that they'd have five bullets in your brain before you could even whip out your wings."

"They?" Max asked quickly, raising an eyebrow.

"We," Britney corrected, irritated.

Max spoke quietly, so that any hidden listening devices would find her words impossible to make out: "It's not too late to change sides, you know. You could save your brother."

"I _am_ saving him," Britney retorted. "Besides, what do you care? You always thought you were too good for us, oh Maximum Ride."

Max flashed an arrogant smile. "I am, but that doesn't mean I want you _dead_. Just out of my way."

"That's too bad," Britney replied airily. "Because I _do_ want _you_ dead."

Britney knelt down beside Max and gently placed her hands around the older clone's neck. Her palms were frosty against Max's skin, and comprehension slowly flooded into Max's mind. Max automatically tried to stiffen, but found herself completely immobilized.

_You can't do this,_ Max screamed inside her head, unable to move her jaw.

"It's easy enough," Britney informed her quietly. "A simple jerk sideways would do it, or maybe a quick strangling. You can even choose if you want."

_Maxwell will know you did it._

"Not if I don't want him to. Besides, I could say you attacked me, which is true, and that I had no choice, and he'd believe me."

_Why?_

Britney's hands tightened. "Do you honestly not know?"

"Ha ha! Eat rocket, scumbag!"

Britney whirled around, removing her hands from Max's throat. Before she could even see the newcomer, a fiery projectile swept her off her feet and sent her across the room. An explosion resulted, albeit a rather small one.

Max shot to her feet. With Britney either unconscious or dead, she had regained control of herself.

"Don't move," ordered her rescuer from the doorway. "You have no idea how much I enjoy using this thing."

Max froze obediently, taking the opportunity to study the speaker. He was lean, young (Max estimated around her own age), and apparently amused by the whole situation. His clothes were torn, smoky, and, in some places, blood streaked. He had obviously had to fight his way this far into Itex's German castle. Eyes blue enough to seem insane complimented his strawberry blonde hair.

Most importantly, though, in Max's opinion, he had portable rocket launcher pointed directly at her torso.

"Why don't you put the deadly weapon down?" Max asked cautiously.

He grinned. "I still have to decide whether to kill you or not."

"You have serious ethical problems," commented someone with a low, calm voice.

Another person walked into view, and he firmly took the rocket launcher away from the boy. He was in an equally ragged condition, and Max assumed he'd been storming the castle as well. It was clear that this one was older than her, perhaps in his mid-twenties. His olive skin and dark hair made him attractive, but once again Max was more focused on weaponry, this time a large handgun resting in its holster.

Max wondered briefly why the weapon wasn't aimed at her, but then noticed a rather important detail. The man had only one arm.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

The blue-eyed boy snorted. "I love how you seem more interested than sorry."

"Long story," the man said, ignoring his companion. "Now, let's move out; fast."

"Wait –we're taking her with us?"

"Yeah, Griff. We need her."

"Why?" the boy, Griff, asked in frustration.

"Trust me."

**A/N: Yeah, trust me, too. It all makes sense a few chapters down the road.**

**Anyways, for those of you that haven't already, read Lakeside, Why Couldn't I Save You?, New Powers, and Guardian's Angel. **

**But The Cliche is better than most of those. Read that one first.**

**And review. Now.**


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